


We Hate Keith Club

by dailyandgaily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actor AU, Aged-Up Characters, Also fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Keith is also very gay, Lance is unironically an idiot, M/M, Multi, Pidge writes klance fanfiction, Pining, Save Me, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Keith, don't hate me I love Keith Lance is just in denial okay, fake relationship au, he's also aggressively bisexual, keith needs to be protected, klangst, the floor is lava, they're all actors so, what are these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyandgaily/pseuds/dailyandgaily
Summary: When Keith is forced into the role of kissing another actress on the internationally famous TV show, Voltron: Legendary Defender, the last thing he expects is to be “rescued” by Lance… especially when Lance decides switching places with the actress is the best way to help.Meanwhile, Lance attempts to piss off Keith by making a club, just to end up helping Keith after hearing a secret Keith can’t afford to tell the world.





	1. unwanted roles

**Author's Note:**

> just warning you guys now, there’s gonna be some homophobic language so prepare for that
> 
> also, i got the idea for this fic from glorioustrashking (on tumblr), thanks man, u the real MVP
> 
> and lastly a quick but freaking grateful af thanks to my editor not_happening, seriously without you there to motivate me and help keep my shit together this wouldn't be possible
> 
> now that all that's out of the way, hope you guys enjoy~

“I _hate_ him.”

Lance let out his eighth angered sigh since leaving set, entering his shambolic trailer that properly mirrored his current mental state. He had meant to clean up the place—really, he had—but with everything going on recently, he just didn’t have the time. Pidge and Hunk weren’t far behind him, climbing the few steps leading up before entering Lance’s private trailer. 

“They gave the kissing scene to _Keith_?” Lance scoffed, “Out of all of us, the board choses an emo, vampiric conspiracy theorist who barely speaks to-to not just _flirt_ with, but also make out with a hot girl?” 

Pidge frowned and made a small, displeased grunt at her phone as Hunk plopped down on a blue beanbag off a ways from where Lance was pacing. Hunk, observant and kind-hearted as usual, took notice of Pidge’s expression. 

“What’s wrong?” Hunk asked.

“Keith isn’t answering my texts,” she mumbled, removing one hand from her phone to readjust her glasses. Shaking her head, she looked up at Hunk, “It’s not like him.”

“Well no wonder,” Lance huffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he flung himself into a nearby office chair. “It’s probably because he’s already practicing with her for their scene!” 

Pidge shot Lance a flat look before rolling her eyes. “Keith isn’t like you, Lance, he’s not gonna jump at the chance to kiss some girl he barely knows.” Lance would’ve been offended if it weren’t for the confusing undertone to her words, making him wonder if there was more to what she said than he understood. 

Lance ultimately decided on sticking his tongue out, a juvenile enterprise, but one that still brought him childish satisfaction. Crossing his arms across his chest, he turned his head to the side to stare at the wall. His eyes instantly landed on the cork board nailed to the inside of the trailer, cluttered with mementos and family pictures. One particular photo from years ago, taken after a long summer day as the sun set, caught his attention. It was taken back in Varadero before they moved to the States, everyone had spend the day at the beach, swimming and making sandcastles. 

Though by far, the most vivid part that stuck out in the fond memory were the smiles. Ever since the move, his main concentration had shifted onto his movie career, meaning time spent with his family dwindled down to make room for the building blocks of his acting future. He loved his family more than anything, but his acting allowed him to help out with the expenses—no matter how much mamá tried to refuse his help. 

Feeling the sides of his lips begin to tilt downwards, he silently swore to dedicate more time to visiting his family. 

His gaze glided over the other familiar moments of his history, captured in single, split-second moments of time. Other memories were kept through scribbled crayon drawings from his siblings or miscellaneous arts-and-crafts from his elementary school days. He felt a small, proud smile curl his lips up into a smile at seeing his older sister, Mia, holding up the first-place trophy for her robotics club. She had always been the astute one; a straight-A student and total nerd that never ceased to impress. 

Lance almost chuckled as another memory resurfaced: his first week as a freshman had gone downhill fast, and he remembered the overwhelming stress when money had gotten tight. He was still most definitely underage, so he had searched high and low for alternatives—mowing Mr. Vega’s lawn, walking the neighbors’ dogs, babysitting, anything that would pay. It was only once abuelo got sick when Lance had really started panicking; it had gotten to the point where he was willing to take any shady job, as long as he got paid. 

And Mia had noticed. 

She had caught him attempting to sneak out the backdoor one night and convinced him to listen to what she had to say (it only took a simple threat of yelling to wake up mamá). After a curt, seemingly prepared speech, it turned out her many supervised clubs proved to serve another use: raising money. Not only that, but victors to certain competitions could even be awarded with prize money. 

It was back then that Lance fell in love with the clubs. Sure, the money had been his original aim, but learning to meld wires together in robotics, or learning to control and pace his speech in debate, even memorizing words for the national spelling bees grew to radiate mirth. Anytime he felt down, he would just visit—

_Oh._

“Lance!” 

Lance yelped, practically falling out of his chair at the sound of Pidge’s irritated voice. Quickly shaking his head as if it would help detach the memories that clung to his mind like dizzying leeches, he twirled around in his seat until he faced her and Hunk. 

“You okay there bud?” Hunk questioned, giving Lance a curious look. 

A grin slowly grew across Lance’s features, rapidly lighting up his expression. His friends’ confusion was instant, and both Hunk and Pidge shared questioning looks before glancing back to Lance. Lance, no longer in a bad mood, allowed himself to stand. 

“Pidge, get your computer. Hunk, find someone important on set who can let us use one of the rooms.”

“Someone important?” Hunk echoed, smiling even as he rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the specific instructions there man.”

“And what exactly are we doing?” Pidge asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow as she stared at him. In response, Lance confidently placed his hands on his hips and smirked down at her. 

“We’re starting a club.”

—

Keith let out a frustrated sigh as the meeting room was finally empty, leaving himself alone with his manager. The other actors had left early enough, Pidge and Hunk giving him a thumbs up as they quietly rushed after a fuming Lance. 

_Lance._

Keith actually huffed at the memory of Lance storming out of the room just because he wasn't given the task of kissing Nyma. Keith, on the other hand, was absolutely appalled. Not that Nyma wasn’t attractive—he just played for the other team, and this definitely wasn’t his area of expertise, even if it was just for show. He knew the only reason he was given this role over literally any of the other actors in the first place was because he hadn’t come out yet. 

Not that he didn’t want to. 

“You’re doing this,” his manager, Zarkon, stated as if it was the easiest choice he’d ever made—as if it was his choice in the first place. 

Though Keith still thought of his manager as Zarkon, everyone had begun calling him by the name Z after his outburst over all the snide comments and whispered jokes—being compared to the show’s main antagonist really did do him in after all. 

“You didn’t even give me the chance to—“ Keith began, exasperated. 

“Keith,” Z interrupted without hesitation, “You want this job, don’t you?”

Keith let out another livid huff, dropping his gaze down to the polished floor of the conference room. “More like I _need_ it,” he murmured under his breath. He had been lucky to have Shiro around, more than willing to lend his help anytime Keith desired, but he also had to make it on his own. He refused to rely solely on Shiro. 

“I’m sorry,” Z said in a voice that was anything but, “come again?”

Keith, raising his gaze to stare flatly at his manager, spoke again, this time in a more determined tone that belied his bubbling indignation. “I can’t live like this Z, let alone work like this!” Now it was Zarkon’s turn to be annoyed. He shook his head, closing his eyes in disdain as he stepped aside and around the raven-haired teen. He strode across the room in barely three steps, leaning down to pick up his glass; the melting ice clinked around in the Lilliputian sum of remaining vodka. Oh how Keith wished he had some for himself right now, he was just barely withholding himself from banging his head against the walls. 

“We’ve gone over this Keith,” he said, taking one final swig. “You can’t be some queer—not in this show and not in real life—you’ll never survive in this industry if you are.” Each word was like a red-hot slap to the face, making Keith’s pulse race and his muscles tighten. Keith wanted to punch him so badly he could feel his mind preparing to attack, but his career would be over before he got in the first hit. 

“You make me sound diseased,” Keith hissed back in response. “Since when did being gay become such a bad thing?”

Zarkon slammed his glass against the wooden surface of the conference table, his eyes burning into Keith’s. The gaze was so intense it made Keith’s adrenaline-drunk body tense. 

“Since the fan base said so,” he replied in a low, matter-of-fact voice. 

Keith paused, taking a moment to bite his bottom lip before speaking again. He already knew he was going to lose this argument, but he wasn’t going to give up without trying at least. “There’s plenty of gay ships in the fandom,” he retorted. 

“Sure,” Z forced a laugh that sent chills down Keith’s already pencil-straight spine. “Maybe back when the show was first starting out.” 

Now Zarkon was walking back towards him, his expression deadly serious, forcing all of Keith’s limbs scream at him to step back and run. Still, he didn’t dare move. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie like this anymore. He would rather die a slow, painfully tortuous death than pretend for another minute. 

“But now,” Z continued, voice even more impossibly low, now completely towering over Keith, “everything’s different.”

“You see, after going international, our audience has changed drastically. Meaning: we no longer have one particular audience to subject ourselves to. We have many different watchers’ tastes to adhere to, and because our largest watching groups are not primarily focused on homosexuality, it wouldn’t do us much good to incorporate it.”

Keith was so furious he could scream. “That’s—how—what kind of fucked up logic is that! Diversity will attract all kinds of viewers and increase popularity, why the _hell_ —“

“Not in our experience. Not in this show.” 

Keith felt the anger rising over all his worries and logic, making his tone rise right along with it. “I may be an actor Z, but I can’t keep up this façade both on and off set! Not to mention that it’s lying to my fans!”

“You even insinuating that you’re gay will ruin you, Keith.”

How Zarkon kept his voice so calm and contained Keith would never know. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself anymore. His instincts kicked in; his fist flashed in front of both their faces before smacking Z smack-dab in the face. He felt his knuckles make contact with bone and heard the sound of blood-curling crunching. He instantly drew back, his feet guiding him backwards as he watched his manager recoil in surprised pain. 

Keith was out of the room before he could see how he reacted next.

—

Keith didn’t hesitate to stick around. He needed to find someplace to go that wasn’t his trailer. Or Shiro’s home—which was _his_ home, too, he corrected himself—wasn’t a good idea either. He wasn’t going to make his adopted brother put up with his mistakes. 

Keith could figure this out, he could find another manager before he managed to get his gay ass fired, right? 

Sure.

Sure he could. 

He sped down the empty halls that connected to the set of the main interior of the Altean ship, as well as the exit to the parking lot where all the trailers were situated. The area was surprisingly empty, but then again they had finished up much earlier than usual for the meeting. The meeting that had single-handedly ruined his career. Well, really, it had been the punch to Zarkon’s face, but it’s not like he’d actually admit that. He enjoyed smashing the man’s face in way more than he should have. 

His eyes darted to the passing window, catching a glimpse of the sun late midday. It was probably somewhere around three or four o’clock, meaning he still had a chance to find Pidge wandering around and just ask to crash at her place for the night. She’d understand. 

He turned a corner and halted, giving himself a moment to breathe. His hand slid into his dark jean pocket, realizing his flip-phone was still turned off. He took the small device out and turned it hesitantly in his sweaty palm. Sure he could instantly reach Pidge with it on, but when the thought spurred of the possibilities of important missed calls arose, he quickly shoved his phone into his back pocket and continued his trek as something caught his eye. 

Keith came to a screeching halt near the directors chairs placed behind the camera. His dark eyes instantly latched onto the simple black words inked onto the white poster. It read:

>   
>  _**We Hate Keith Club** _
> 
> _This Week’s Topic: Keith’s Stupid Mullet_
> 
> _Location: That One Room Filled With Chairs Near The Lunch Area_
> 
> _Next Week: Keith’s Dumb Eyes_  
> 

“Oh _for_ —” he groaned, momentarily forgetting the severity of the situation to tear down the poster—only to realize how many lined the walls. How had he not noticed this earlier? His eyes widened slightly at the sight; he backed up, nearly smacking into one of the high chairs, so he could take in the grand sight. There were so many posters plastered along the wall that you couldn’t even tell there _was_ a wall anymore.

“How the—when did he have time for this?” he wondered aloud, his eyes trailing over the dimly lit, identical posters. Honestly, Keith wasn’t surprised at the task itself as much as the effort put into it. 

Then the idea struck. 

Pidge had to be there with Hunk and, no doubt, Lance. 

She always joined whatever crazy stunts Lance involved himself in, and admittedly she watched for a good laugh, she was still Lance’s friend. Of course she’d be there for him. When he had first met her it was through Matt, who was friends with Shiro. At first, he was taken aback by how welcoming and unbelievably warm the two siblings were, but now it was comforting to know he had others to count on besides Shiro. 

Keith immediately headed towards the decided location, a small grin tugging at the reminder behind the place’s prestige. It began months ago when they had just started filming for Voltron: Legendary Defender, Keith had been more than stressed. Being forced out of his comfort zone for green paper that kept him alive had run him down faster than the police chasing after a parked car. Every break he had he went to the lunch area nearby, getting himself a triple-shot espresso to keep himself moving. The all-nighters for second jobs as a barista or bookstore clerk didn’t help either, especially when customers started recognizing him as an actor once the show gained fame. His bosses didn’t appreciate the hold-up in lines either, and finding secondary jobs kept getting harder and harder to keep.

Keith had been taking his fourth shot that day when he felt an assertive hand come down to rest on his shoulder. His entire body tensed at the unexpected and certainly unwelcome touch, his eyes darting to glare at the personal-bubble intruder with metaphorical knives. 

”U-uh,” Lance’s confidence hesitated as he shifted in place under Keith’s gaze, “Keith, buddy, you sure it’s okay to be drinking so much coffee this early?” Keith hadn’t even bothered to insult him; he had been too tired. 

“Buzz off.” 

Lance seemed to regain his poise at that and smiled, seeming to take it as approval for whatever plan his bright blue eyes seemed to hide. He threw his arm over Keith so it was draped over both his shoulders and back, gently tugging him away from the coffee machine. 

“Oh dude you’re in luck,” Lance began, nearly dragging Keith along to the room next door, “Hunk and I brought speakers today.”

“Your voice is already annoyingly loud Lance, you don’t need speaker.”

Lance had just taken his insult in stride, as usual, “Was that an actual joke? From you, Keith? Never thought I’d live to see the day. Hell—I never thought the day would ever come!”

When the duo entered the room for what was his first time, Keith had stopped in his tracks. 

The small room was cramped with the show’s actors, all of them chatting happily with one another around the circumference of chairs. The chairs themselves were arranged to create a huge circle, a round table situated in the center with someone’s phone lying on top. Keith understood why bringing speakers had been considered such a big deal to Lance—two huge speakers at the table’s base were connected to the phone atop the table by an aux cord. They were near the height of the table, reaching around where Keith would guess was his own waist. 

It was currently playing some quiet—if the music forcefully trailing out of the speakers could be called that—instrumental music. Mixed haphazardly with the voices of dozens of others people he wasn’t familiar with, Keith felt dreadfully out of his own element. 

Clearly noticing his distress, Lance spoke up. 

“No, no—wait, trust me. There won’t be any talking.”

At that Keith turned with a raised brow, giving a weird enough look to make Lance bubble up with laughter. 

“Sorry,” he apologized between laughs. “We’re—it’s not—it’s musical chairs, I swear.” Still suspicious, Keith hesitated, but nodded. His eyes trailed the crowd, and needing a distraction from all the surrounding people, Keith spoke. 

“Why’d you invite me?”

Lance tensed slightly, not expecting such candidness. He quickly shook it off, his intense blue eyes leaving Keith’s to scan the crowd just like he had moments ago. “Invited everyone else,” he shrugged. Then, becoming slightly quieter—as if Keith wasn’t having enough trouble listening with the chatter of those around him—Lance added, “Plus, you’re always going off on your own a lot, so, you know.”

No, he didn’t know. He would’ve asked too, if it weren’t for Lance’s startling “aha!” and yelling across the room. 

“Hunk, Pidge! There you guys are—“ he turned back to meet Keith’s confused gaze, “c’mon.” Suddenly Keith felt the warm presence of fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging him along through the thicker sections of the crowd, towards the circle of chairs. 

“Wh—“ Keith began, instantly cut off by Pidge’s voice. 

“Finally, Lance! Do you know how frustrating it is to setup with only one other person?” she glared at him, and before he could reply, she went on. “No, no you don’t, because you were off doing—“ seeing Keith, she halted abruptly. 

“Keith?” she questioned, her eyes drifting down quickly to glance at his wrist—where Lance’s hand still was. Chestnut eyes narrowing immediately, her gaze went back up to meet Keith’s eyes, giving him a questioning look. A look that only served to make Keith uncomfortable. He wanted to tear his hand away, but what was the point in doing it now? After the moment passed, she gave a small smile paired with a shrug. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, anyway. Took you long enough to join in on the fun.” 

Lance finally joined in, an annoyingly smug grin plastered across his face. “Unsurprising, he’s always last for everything.” 

Keith was already on edge this morning, and Lance’s childish comments weren’t helping. “Bet I can beat you at—whatever the hell this is,” he growled back, lifting his free hand to motion at the chairs. 

“Oh please, _mullet_ ,” Lance rolled his eyes, although his smirk widened in response. “You wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

He could see Pidge watching them out of the corner of his eye. He knew Lance pointedly trying to rile him up. He knew engaging would be a bad decision. Admittedly, that was probably why he was making the decision in the first place. 

“Bring it.”

“Loser buys lunch.”

Keith’s responses were automatic now. There was no way he was going to back down, especially not with Lance challenging him. The boy always brought out his competitive side. 

“Fine.” 

At that Lance’s eyes lit up with excited, scattering blue fireworks. He finally let go of Keith—an accustomed warmth that made Keith’s wrist feel cold—and stepped back excitedly. Quickly clambering atop a chair, he stood up straight and yelled over the crowd. 

“Hey! Everyone! Listen up!” 

Everyone quieted, the conversations dying out slowly as each person turned to face Lance. Keith didn’t know if he could handle all those eyes on him—a camera and a few back-stage, sure—but these were tons of people all solely staring at Lance. It’s why Keith didn’t attend the cast invitation to walk the red-carpet or receive any award-giving ceremonies. Completely unbothered by the attention, and quite honestly basking in it, Lance went on. 

“We’re starting now, so, if everyone could please stay gather ‘round the chairs. Cool. Thanks guys!” 

Stepping down, he gave Keith one last challenging look before turning towards the center where Hunk was now waiting. Rolling his eyes, Keith turned away, immediately facing Pidge and her disapproving look. 

“What?”

She scowled, shaking her head, “Do you even know how to play?”  
He shrugged, “I’ve always been considered a fast learner.”

“If you lose, you’re gonna have to buy Hunk and me lunch too, you know,” Pidge told him. 

_Since when was that established?_

“It was implied,” she answered his unasked question with a sudden cheerfulness. 

“I’m beginning to think you just want free food,” Keith said, but smiled. 

Pidge bashed her eyelashes innocently at him. “Of course not.” 

The music suddenly shifted to a song more upbeat and loud, the crowd thickening as Pidge shot him a parting grin. “Good luck then,” she said, squeezing past two girls huddled together behind him, disappearing into the crowd. 

Then, just like the music, everyone was shifting. 

Some were just shuffling awkwardly along, but most—to Keith’s horror—were dancing. There were couples, salsaing or informally waltzing with one another in a counter-clockwise way around the circle of seats. Realizing a little too late he would have to join in eventually, attempting to hide himself by nudging himself between a group of friends dancing and laughing together. Needless to say, Keith joined the awkward shuffling type. 

Soon after he found Pidge, giggling beside her older brother Matt, who was attempting—and quite honestly failing—the robot. Coran was close by, attempting to do the same as the three of them continued moving around the chairs. But before he could call out to any of them, the music stopped. The change was so sudden. The loss of sound plunged the room in a quiet that was so quick it eerily unnerved Keith. 

Everyone seemed to flip a switch, turning a running in the same direction. Keith flinched instinctively, freezing up. A woman roughly pushed his shoulder, causing him to move to the side. His thoughts grew increasingly more panicked, wondering what had just happened. Right as his gaze flew over to the silenced sound-system, he noticed a girl taking a hurried seat. Then a man a few seats over followed her lead.

 _Oh,_ Keith realized. _So that’s how you play._

Catching on in the nick of time, he nearly threw himself upon the nearest chair, just as another person wearing an oversized sweater began to sit down. He felt the need to apologize at their shocked expression, but they just shortly smiled before joining the remaining group of people who hadn’t grabbed a seat in time. 

Well, he hadn’t lost yet. 

Just had to beat Lance. 

Speaking of…

His eyes quickly trailed the seated crowd until they landed upon the tan boy across the room—who was staring right back at him. Keith nearly jolted up straight in his seat. Lance wore a slightly shocked expression, which evaporated in a flash to be replaced with a condescending grin. Lance still thought he was going to win. 

Keith grinned back, the music starting alongside him as if on cue. This song was new—faster and definitely belonging to a different artist. The beat was entirely unfamiliar, the dipping and curves of the music nearly as startling as the people standing beside him. Seeming to follow to rhythm, Keith stood as well. 

Everyone began dancing again, and Keith immediately went looking for anyone he knew. Even Lance would be acceptable at this point, albeit he doubted he’d find the arrogant actor in this heap of people. He couldn’t understand how so many were enjoying himself, smiling gleefully and joking to the person beside them. He could understand the rush of panicked adrenaline when the music stopped, sure, but the dancing apart… 

Hunk appeared, his huge, huggable body a blessing to Keith in this sea of shoving, distracted bodies. Keith maneuvered around a dancing trio just in time to gracefully slam into Hunk’s back. With an ‘ouf’, Hunk had turned around, looking shortly surprised then delighted to see him. 

“Keith!” he said easily over the blaring music. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you here!” His face immediately scrunched up, looking rueful as he shook his head and spoke again. “I didn’t mean to offend, it’s just, I know you’re not—“  
“A fan of people,” Keith finished, his voice barely perceivable to his own self. Raising his voice, he went on, “Yeah, no, I’m not.” 

Hunk continued smiling along with the music. “Still,” he said swaying his body side-to-side, “I’m glad. I hope you at least try to enjoy yourself man!” 

Keith didn’t respond; not only did he not want to respond, but he hadn’t been allowed the option chance either. It was soon after that the music stopped again that Keith was immediately racing to a chair; he had gotten to a seat easier this time. Thankfully, no one was about to sit down like before. The rounds continued on, the crowd dwindling until there were only five others left and two seats. His head was nearly spinning at all the dizzying movements and touchy people, but he couldn’t allow himself to lose. 

Keith took in another quick scan of the room, his eyes landing on his remaining competitors. As expected, Lance was in the remaining twenty. Tragic. And, equally as expected, he was talking—probably flirting—to two girls sitting beside him. Keith just rolled his eyes, his gaze fluttering across at the others. Pidge made it thanks to her small stature; although she complained a lot to Keith about her height, he was sometimes envious of her ability to disappear and slink her way through tough crowds whenever she wanted. He didn’t have that luxury. 

It went on like this for a while, repeated patterns with Keith hiding between groups of people and racing to chairs nearby. It got harder as the game went on, leaving less and less people for him to sneak behind. Soon enough though, there were only three others left, and two chairs. Coran had managed to win, along with another actress Keith had never met before, and Lance. The surrounding crowd of people that lost were mostly wandering around the bar area now, talking and getting drinks, while others were off talking at the sidelines. No one was really watching besides Hunk and Pidge. Keith almost scoffed, he knew they were just impatiently waiting to see who was buying lunch. 

And if Keith had any say in it, it was going to be Lance. 

Keith was nearing the seat of one of the two back-to-back chairs when the song stopped. The music ended more abruptly than before, causing the four remaining competitors to rush for a seat in a panicked fashion. Coran had been right behind him—a second too late. He sat down right before the older man, sending him a sympathetic shrug before grinning. He was definitely going to win, and if his hopes were correct…

Yeah, of course not.

He turned around to see Lance, sitting with what Keith knew was an arrogant grin on his face. He couldn't really see since they were back to back, but he didn’t need to. Groaning under his breath, Keith stood up as the music started up again. This time the music wasn’t indie like the last, but lyrical and…

Entirely in Spanish. 

Keith saw movement from his peripheral vision, and turning, he saw Hunk leave Pidge’s side. Hunk quickly moved forward between the two of them to pull away a chair, before returning to Pidge. Once again, there was movement off to his other side. This time when he turned, however, he hadn’t expected the contact he received. A familiar, slim hand had clasped around Keith’s wrist. Nearly flinching away, Keith whipped around, his gaze shooting to see who had just grabbed him. His eyes widened. 

“Lanc—?”

He was quickly cut off by his own shocked gasp as his body was pulled forward—just barely stopping himself before smacking into Lance. Before getting the chance to express his angered confusion, his other wrist was grabbed by Lance, who proceeded to slip his hands down and intwine their fingers. 

“ _Wha—?_ ” he choked out, his eyes darting from their interlaced fingers up to Lance’s playful blue eyes. 

“You haven’t been dancing the entire time,” Lance finally explained, rolling his eyes as a small grin shone across his face. “You know, the whole point of _musical_ chairs is to enjoy yourself with the _music_.”

Keith scoffed, raising their tangled hands between them, “And this helps how exactly?”

Lance’s grin widened. “You ever salsa before?”

Keith had to admit, the song did sound like the right kind to salsa to, but it didn’t matter regardless. He paused, his eyes narrowing for a second before answering, “I don’t dance.” 

“Oh come on,” Lance rolled his eyes once again, sounding exasperated, “everyone can dance.”

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how.”

“Then let me show you.” Before Keith could attest, Lance went on. “Okay, first, feet together.”

Keith opened his mouth to attest, but seeing Lance’s amused expression, he sighed and glanced down awkwardly at his feet. Shuffling a bit, he positioned them together. Apparently he was doing it right, since Lance huffed a quiet ‘alright’ before raising his voice. 

“Now step forward with your left foot.”

Keith frowned, his eyes still planted on his feet. “Uh… unless you want me to step on your foot, I don’t think—“ Lance chuckled, interrupting Keith’s thoughts.

“Trust me.”

He paused. Hesitating, Keith took a moment before ignoring his inner protests and stepped forward. Lance smoothly stepped back with his right, his timing perfectly in tune with the music. 

“Oh,” Keith let out quietly. 

“Okay, good. Now step back.”

Keith let his eyes flicker up to give Lance a questioning look. “A bit redundant, isn’t it?” he asked him, but obeyed nonetheless, his left foot returning beside his right. “Why would you step forward just to return to the same spot you started?” 

Lance shrugged. “Isn’t that how life is too?” he asked. “Now you step back with your right.” This time Keith did so without question, and Lance stepped forward. “See! Easy.” 

“That’s it?”

Even though Keith still looked at the floor, he could see movement above him. He guessed Lance was nodding. 

“That’s it. Speed’s the only thing missing now.” 

Lance gave a few more small additions after that, mostly so they could step up, sidestep, and switch positions in big motions to increase the distance they traveled. They continued repeating the repetitious pattern, with Keith trying to keep his moves graceful and calm and Lance smoothly keeping up. It would have bothered him—Lance having such an easy time while he was struggling—but he was too distracted. He knew Katie’s and Hunk’s eyes were on them, as well as any onlookers. It made him uncomfortable, like they were watching him doing something private. 

His hands tightened involuntarily as he frowned down at the ground, trying to fasten his pace. They had managed to actually start moving around the chair now, maintaining their decent speed. It was now Lance decided to speak up, nearly startling Keith into stepping on Lance’s foot. 

“Not bad, but—“ Lance released a hand from Keith’s. He wondered silently what Lance was doing, before belatedly realizing what was happening. Keith froze, stopping their dance. Lance’s warm hand moved under Keith’s chin, gently pushing it upwards until he was looking directly at Lance, whose face was scrunched up in concentration. “There. Much better,” he smiled.

Keith couldn’t help himself. “How am I supposed to dance without knowing where I’m going?” 

“It’s why you have a partner—“ Lance stepped back, tugging Keith closer, “—to guide you.” 

Albeit he didn’t trust himself to dance without watching himself, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lance’s. Groaning, Keith nodded reluctantly. “Fine, but when I step on you don’t blame me, I did warn you.” 

At first, Keith was painfully hesitant. He paused before every movement, even flinching back a few times when he thought he might mess up, but Lance said nothing. He was either too occupied with their occasional conversation or just genuinely didn’t notice. Surprisingly enough though, they did pick up speed and continued their dance around the chair. 

“This song has gone on for at least a few minutes, hasn’t it?” Keith wondered aloud, interrupting a horrible pun Lance had just made. 

“Seriously? I’m telling you gold and all you’ve been thinking about is when you’re gonna lose?” he unclasped a hand once again, this time bringing it up to his chest in mock offense. “Thou doth wound me so.”

Keith rolled his eyes as they passed each other and swapped positions—not that it really mattered, Keith noticed, since they shared the same movements. “Whatever Romeo, don’t start crying when you’re the one buying lunch.” They were nearing the front of the chair, with Keith’s back facing it, when two things happened. 

Lance’s hand came back to lie on Keith’s back, just under his shoulder blade, pulling Keith forward towards him. Simultaneously, he used his other hand that was still intwined with Keith’s and continued to pull him forward. Shock numbed his nerves, and he stumbled forward. At the last second before their bodies pressed up against each other, Lance stepped to the side, and suddenly, Keith was spinning. 

He didn’t even notice the music stop.

Keith turned one, twice, three times before finally catching himself, his chest heaving and his back turned to both Lance and the chair. Taking in quick, shallow breaths, he flipped around to glare at Lance, who stood smirking a few feet away. 

“You _ass_ —“

His entire body froze, as if it too realized how close Keith was to death in the current situation. Well, really, more like Keith’s wallet. 

“Lance. Don’t.”

“Speaking of asses,” Lance began, referring to Keith’s other kind comment, “mine is quite tired. I think I’m gonna take a se—“

Keith was not going to lose this competition, so he had to play dirty. His mind whirred with any possible means of distraction, most of which he was not willing to do with a room filled with people. He didn’t have time to run through every possible scenario, so he had to act now. Easily allowing his instinct to take over his body, he stepped up and reached out to Lance.

Lance, a bit taken back by Keith’s suddenness, halted in his movements, just as Keith hoped he would. His hands mimicked the unfamiliar movements he saw mere moments earlier, his hand wrapping around Lance’s wrist and tugging him forward. He brought his hand down and re-intwined their fingers. Lifting his hand up, he brought Lance into a quick spin, he moved around Lance and released his grip once he accomplished his goal. They had switched positions again, but this time Keith could actually take pride in what he had just done. 

Keith smirked, crossing his arms as Lance twirled around, his eyes blown wide. “Wh—“ he tried, before shutting his mouth closed. Once Keith saw the realization hit Lance, he let himself sit down. 

“Wai— _Keith!_ ” Lance screeched, drawing everyone’s attention towards them. Beside him, Keith could hear Pidge and Hunk laughing. In any other situation Keith would’ve been uncomfortable with all the room’s attention centered on just the two of them, but he was too amused by Lance’s shock to pay any mind. Thankfully for him, everyone seemed to become disinterested pretty quickly. 

As their laughter died down, Pidge immediately honed in on her goal. Grinning, she stalked up to Lance with Hunk trailing close behind. “So,” she began, an excited, devious glint in her eyes, “who’s ready to eat?” 

Keith’s small smile faded as he finally snapped himself out of the memory. That had been nearly a year ago, during the first season’s production. Now, stopping in front of the room he had first entered so long ago, he was frowning. He had been exceptionally happy for a while after that day, genuinely enjoying the time he got to spend with Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and the rest of the crew. But that unusual giddy feeling he felt with his new friends was soon replaced with the familiar sinking in the pit of his stomach. So much had changed since then, and not much for the better. 

A few weeks after, Lance’s behavior changed around Keith, adapting an attitude much like the one of Lance’s character on the show, Blue. Their bickering became more intense and long-lasting, so much that sometimes they would have to stop filming until they both calmed down. Keith had thought they could have at least gotten along for the sake of the show, but as time went on, the idea strayed further and further from his grasp. It got especially difficult when their characters, Red and Blue, began growing closer. 

Keith still hadn't moved.

He stayed put in front of the door leading into the room he knew Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were in now. He absentmindedly noticed another one of the club’s posters was plastered across the closed door, and he could easily make out Lance’s voice from inside. Sighing, he walked forward, opening the door and stepping inside the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was mostly leading you into the story, i really appreciate you guys hanging in there
> 
> and feel free to tell me how you feel about this fic so far, feedback is much appreciated :)


	2. the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets pushed to his limit, and Lance gets an idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so yeah im posting this chap on 4/20, but without making this entire message a meme, i wanted to say how shocked i was at the responses i got for this fic. it's probably nothing to you guys, but you have to understand, i literally thought no one was gonna read this, and that it would just fade into the darkest corners of the fandom. 
> 
> so honestly, thank you guys for managing to read my fandom trash. <3

The first thing Keith noticed was Lance’s back to him. 

He stood in the center of a circle of chairs, which were all pointed inward towards him, the opposite of how they had been during their game of musical chairs so long ago. Golden light poured through the large, open windows off to the side of the room, hitting Lance and twisting through the brown strands of his hair. The light seemed to highlight him, giving him an angelic spotlight of gold light.

He didn’t know what else he had expected, but suddenly, Keith could breathe. The tension of possibilities to what he would see when he entered slowly dissipated, and although he was aware Lance was talking, he didn’t really hear what the tan boy was saying. His gaze left Lance and landed upon Pidge. She and Hunk were both facing Lance—meaning they were simultaneously facing Keith. 

Both Pidge and Hunk had switched their gazes to Keith, giving him confused but not unkind looks. Lance seemed completely absorbed by his own words while Keith hesitated in the background, frowning at Pidge. 

She mouthed a ‘what happened,’ quickly motioning Keith to come over. Biting his bottom lip, then nodding, Keith obliged. He concentrated on putting one step in front of the other, rather than Lance, who had now become strangely silent.  
Probably not a good sign. 

He sped past Lance, stopping directly in front of Pidge, who was settled on one of the chairs with her legs crossed. Hunk was sitting beside her, giving Keith a warm smile and wave. Thankful that his back was the one facing Lance now, Keith sighed and ran a quick hand through his dark bangs. 

“Uh, hey Pidge, I was wondering if we could—“ Keith began, but was smoothly cut off by Pidge.

“Talk? I don’t know Keith, maybe if you answered your texts we could have an actual conversation.”

Keith’s frown deepened, and he paused before speaking again. “Pidge I’m really sorry, it’s just… something came up—“ But once again, Keith was interrupted. This time though, it was from the last person he wanted to hear from. 

“Oh poor Keith,” Lance mocked, his voice dunked in bitter sarcasm, “having to kiss a beautiful girl and get paid for it too. Such a tragedy.” Taking in a deep breath, Keith closed his eyes, letting Shiro’s words pass through his mind. 

_Patience yields focus._

Opening his eyes once again, he ignored Lance, putting all his effort towards his conversation with Pidge. Lowering his voice in hopes of Lance not hearing, he tried again. “Pidge, I really need to talk…” She crossed her arms in response, but her gaze softened. But before she could open her mouth to reply, Lance beat her to it. 

“About what?” he scoffed. “How your first and last kiss is gonna be someone who’s only doing it for money?” 

Okay. 

Keith was _done._

 _Patience does_ not _yield focus when Lance McClain is involved._

He turned around, his glare instantly connecting with Lance’s. The pit of his stomach began to swell with the same explosive anger he had felt earlier during his conversation with his manager—ex-manager, now. If Lance kept this up, Z won’t be the only one who gets a punch to the face. Steeling himself, Keith kept his voice under control. 

“At least I actually _get_ kissed,” he stated cooly. 

The reaction was instant; Lance’s deep blue eyes widened in shock, looking as if he actually took a hit. Behind him, he could hear Hunk inhale sharply, with Pidge muttering a small ‘savage.’ Lance’s expression then hardened, his glare back and more intense then before. 

But Keith wasn’t done. 

Taking a step forward, he entered Lance’s personal space. 

“And with you acting like a complete and total _dick_ all the time,” he snarked, poking Lance in the chest, “I’m amazed you even have friends, let alone a girlfriend.” 

“Keith,” he could hear Hunk say off to the side, exasperated. 

Keith knew he was taking this too far, but he couldn’t help himself. He was already pissed off, his mind practically fuming after the meeting, and Lance’s little ‘club’ wasn’t doing anything to help him cool off either. And here now, with the last person he wanted to see before him, avidly intending to _tick him off,_ Keith was done holding back. 

Lance’s eyes only darkened, his entire expression otherwise unchanging. A long moment of silence followed, where the two boys stared each other down. Behind them, Keith knew the others were ready to hold them back if a fight did break out, and at the rate they were going, he guessed it wouldn’t be long before fists connected with bone. 

But to everyone’s surprise, the silence was broken by a laugh. 

It was Lance’s laugh.

Keith couldn’t stop his shock from claiming his features, his mouth opening slightly as he watched the other boy chuckle. Albeit Lance’s eyes were still filled with spite, and his short laughter was anything but the loud, jovial laughter that was akin to Lance’s personality, the fact that he was laughing at all halted Keith’s irritated thoughts so fast Keith was sure he would get whiplash. 

“Pretty ironic,” Lance said with a petulant smile, “especially coming from a hypocrite like _you._ ” 

Keith’s mouth had hitherto been open, primed for retaliation after hearing Lance speak, but once he actually heard what the boy had to say… 

He paused, standing up straight as he shut his mouth, the words sinking in. Once his brain fully processed them, he could feel the words start to sink down into the pit of his stomach. Keith’s face scrunched up in disgust, not at Lance, but at himself. Regardless of how Lance was acting, it didn’t justify his own actions. 

_Fuck,_ he realized. _He’s right. I am being a dick._

Stepping back, he finally broke eye contact with those intense blue eyes in favor of staring at the floor to the side of him. Keith opened his mouth before closing it once more. He noticed for the first time that his gloved fists were clenched at his sides, and absentmindedly remembered his now-aching fist. The knuckles occasionally sent pulses of numb pain up his arm, but he didn’t regret his choice, regardless of how his career would turn out without his manager to help him. 

The room was completely silent again, excepting the zephyr coming from the open windows off to the side. The sun had set now as well, darkening the room that had previously been lit with golden light. It all felt colder to Keith somehow, which especially didn’t help when he was wearing his red jacket that barely covered his torso. 

Taking in an uneasy breath, Keith attempted to saw his way through the silence as fast as Pidge typed on her computer. “Sorry,” he said, his voice sounding detached even to himself. 

Still avoiding any eye contact, Keith quickly shouldered past Lance and went down an unfamiliar hall, ignoring the door he had entered through. He wasn’t going to risk going back the way he came, in fear of coming head to head with Z again. 

He furtively hoped someone would come after him; Pidge, perhaps, who he had been looking for in the first place. Or maybe Hunk, since he was a constant ray of light that always knew how to comfort others, where Keith didn’t even know how to comfort himself. 

But he was used to being disappointed. 

So when no one came, he didn’t stop. He just silently continued down the void hall. 

—

“ _Who_ does he think he _is_?” Lance practically seethed. “He comes in here, interrupts my—our—meeting! And he completely ignored me, the ass!” 

Pidge only sighed heavily in response, standing up as she shook her head in disapproval. Hunk stood beside her, frowning at Lance with his big, saddened eyes. Lance couldn’t understand how his friends weren’t taking his side on this. _Keith_ was the one who came in here and ruined their first club meeting. _Keith_ was the one to take what was supposed to be his kissing role. _Keith_ was the jerk here, not him. 

“You were acting like an ass too, Lance,” Pidge stated matter-of-factly, her voice angry but calm. Lance knew she was right, but it’s not like he was ever going to admit that. Especially not to Keith. 

“And at least Keith apologized,” Hunk added. 

Lance huffed, defensively crossing his arms over his chest and turning to look out the window. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “He doesn’t deserve an apology anyway.” Even as the words let his lips, he couldn’t help of be reminded of the mullet’s curt apology. To most he it may have sounded shallow and fake, but Lance knew better. He could see the guilt in Keith’s eyes, even if Keith couldn’t see the guilt in his. 

“I’d love to help him out but… I’m supposed to pick up Shay right now,” Hunk began regretfully.

“Well, I have a college night class in twenty, so I can’t go after him either,” Pidge remarked, grabbing her backpack from the polished hardwood floor and shrugging it over her shoulder. “Guess you’re gonna have to get your shit together and go apologize.” With a completely unapologetic glance at Lance, Pidge strode across the room to the door Keith had entered through. When Lance turned back to face Hunk, a frown had taken place of his friend’s usual supportive smile. 

“I’m sorry man, but I have to agree with Pidge,” he spoke honestly, but Lance couldn’t ignore the feeling of betrayal he felt bubble up inside him. “You guys started bickering from the beginning and it’s only gotten more and more out of control since then… you need to talk it out.” 

Hunk gave Lance his best attempt at a halfhearted smile, quickly followed by a pat on the back as Hunk followed after Pidge, leaving Lance alone in the quiet. Hearing the door shut behind him solidified exactly what he was afraid of: he was on his own. 

No one was here to help him talk to Keith or coax him out of his bad mood, he was going to have to do this by himself. Lance knew he was the last person Keith wanted to see, especially after his wonderfully kind comments. He paused in thought.

 _So why should I bother?_ he brooded.

He slowly turned on his heels, facing both the door and the long hallway. His eyes flickered across the dim room to the door—the exit. He could just leave. He could not just walk out and not come back, go home and pretend nothing happened. 

_It’d be so easy,_ a part of him whispered, _to just walk away._

He shook his head in disbelief, bringing his hands up to his face to shield himself from such horrible thoughts. He may be an arrogant prick at times, but he could never just abandon someone. He knew how it felt to not have anyone to talk to, and him being the very cause of Keith’s irascibility didn’t ease that truth. Making up his mind, Lance lowered his hands, once again staring at his options. 

_Everyone needs someone._

Lance took in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He then took a shaky step forward, then another, and then soon he was making his way down the same dim hall Keith had walked into just moments earlier. Without the sun’s light everything seemed dull, as if the world’s color was drained without it. Perhaps people were the same, and if they lost sight of the sun they grew cold too, until they became lost forever to the light. 

Lance shivered, he never knew how cold the sets could get at night, even with a jacket on the cool atmosphere seeped through and permeated with bitter cold. He was glad there was some lighting, a last-minute plan it seemed, where the lamps were stretched out unevenly along the right side of the hallway, emitting some artificial light. 

Up ahead there was a flicker of movement, and Lance halted in his gait. A few feet ahead was a figure, with their back turned as they faced something Lance couldn’t see. With the place’s eerie ambience, his mind immediately surged towards any and all dark corners, throwing all conventional ideas out the window. Thankfully for him, however, he was no longer near any open windows. 

Plus, seeing that dumb mullet pretty much confuted all his previous speculations. 

He took a few more steps forward, just a few feet away now, before freezing altogether. What was he supposed to do now? He was here, then what? Keith still didn’t seem to notice him, and it didn’t help that the mullet could turn around any second and see him. What would Keith think? Lance stared, until something caught his attention. 

_Why is he not walking…?_

Tilting his head to the side and squinting, Lance could barely make out what Keith was staring at through the feeble light. 

“Dead end?” he huffed, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Keith went entirely rigid. “What kind of idiot walks down towards dead end to _escape_ from people?” 

There had been a short pause before Keith turned around. He guessed Keith was glaring at him once again, but it was completely wasted on Lance in this weak lamplight. It was so quiet that he could hear the other boy’s breathing, even with him a few feet away. 

“You’re here too, aren’t you?” Keith snapped, but his tone seemed different than how it was minutes ago. It had lost some of its bite—lacked that spark that always managed to set Lance off and make him challenge Keith in all sorts of stupid things. 

“Well,” Lance replied, beginning to walk forward, “unlike somebody else here, I came here to _find_ someone rather than avoid them.” 

“Whatever,” he mumbled. Without another word, Keith stepped forward, and rather than confront Lance as Lance hoped he would, he was walking right past him. Again. 

Not willing to let this happen for a third time today, he waited for Keith to be shoulder-to-shoulder before making his move. Just as the shorter boy passed him, his hand shot out and he grabbed Keith’s upper arm. Once again Keith’s movements were stunted, and Lance took this opportunity to speak. 

“You know I’m really trying to communicate with you here.” No response. “Bond, even?” Nothing. “Come on, Red, you were the one to bring up our bonding moment, remember?” he prodded, hoping his reference to their scene would break Keith from his stillness. 

As luck would have it, Lance got what he wanted.

As luck would also, equally, _not_ have it, his wish wasn’t granted in the most graceful of ways.

“What bonding moment?” Keith deadpanned, echoing Blue’s words. Lance flinched. 

Keith proceeded to abruptly tear his arm out of Lance’s grip, turning to face Lance. Albeit still dimmed by the shadows, their sudden proximity allowed Lance to have a better view of Keith’s face. More specifically, Keith’s annoyed glare. Did this boy have any other facial expressions?

“And every time we ‘talk,’ Lance, it ends with someone getting a bloody nose.” Now, the statement wasn’t necessarily _false,_ per se, but it couldn’t happen _every_ time. Lance wasn’t going to let it, not for this conversation at least. 

“What happened at the meeting?” he cut to the chase. If Keith, the bluntest person he knew, was going to beat around the bush, he knew something was up.

“What?” 

Lance finally turned to him, leveling his gaze with Keith’s. He looked confused, his dark eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at Lance. 

“You were already in a shit mood before you talked to me, and Pidge said you weren’t answering her texts,” Lance elaborated calmly. “So, what happened?” 

Keith’s eyes seemed to search Lance’s, looking for something, a reason to why Lance was asking. It took a while, but Lance guessed Keith had either found what he was looking for, or at least given up on trying. “None of your damn business,” Keith decided. 

See, when Lance had said he was trying, he was _really_ trying, and Keith’s stubborn attitude really wasn’t helping. The apathy in the boy’s newest statement was setting an all-time high, even if it was Keith saying it. The muscles wound throughout Lance began to twitch in annoyance, and he could practically hear the gears in his head turning to adopt a more aggressive solution to his current problem. 

“Oh? Is that right?” Lance could feel his teeth gently grind against one another as he took a step forward, nearly putting himself chest-to-chest with Keith. For what definitely wasn’t the first or the last time, Lance took pride in the inch or two he had over the shorter boy. Keith’s eyes flickered up, momentarily dilating before he reverted to his overused glare. He wasn’t backing down, and neither was Lance. 

“Why did you come after me, anyway?” he blurted out suddenly, catching Lance off-guard. “Pidge sent you, didn’t she? What? Did she threaten to blackmail you, or was it—“

Lance wasn’t sure _how_ it happened, but he knew _why_ he had cut off Keith mid-sentence. Exasperated in just about every respect, Lance’s fist for once didn’t find itself connecting with Keith’s jaw, but rather grasping the collar of his jacket. Just as his other hand found Keith’s hip, Lance was pushing Keith up against the wall. They were both showered in light, the lamp just above Keith’s head of dark hair illuminating his stunned features. Keith was no longer glaring, but it was probably because he was too busy looking like a beached koi. The air around them had just settled from the disturbance as Lance lowered his voice, wearing a cold look. 

“ _I’m_ supposed to be the one to piss you off. Not some damn meeting—especially not one where you get an upgrade,” Lance paused, giving himself time to gauge Keith’s expressions. The dark plum gems of Keith’s eyes were just as hard as ever, with the small exception of the shock lacing his look. Letting out an exasperated groan that sounded more like a growl than intended, Lance went on. 

“Seriously, you’ve got to be the only person I know who would refuse a kiss from a hot chick.”

Keith bristled at that, his startled look morphing into a twisted look of odium. He snorted, “Who ever said I wanted to kiss someone in the first place?”

“Why take the job then?” Lance returned incredulously, raising an eyebrow. 

Keith turned his head to the side, huffing as he looked down the dark hallway. “Not like I had much of a choice,” he mumbled. 

This kid wasn’t making any sense. The writers wouldn’t force a role on an actor, especially not one of such importance, without ensuring they had permission to do so. Even if they went through Keith’s manager, they were expected to pass along the information and make sure everyone was at an understanding. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I _mean, _” Keith said, his voice rising, “that I need to do this. It’s not about whether or not I want to.” He knew Keith demanded a lot of himself, all of the actors he knew did, but there was still a certain point where your job became a cage rather than a creative outlet to thrive with. From what Lance could see, Keith was willingly crossing that line, but Lance couldn’t contrive a reason strong enough to force him over the edge like this.__

__“Why?” he couldn’t stop himself from losing the edge in his voice. He had originally wanted to force answers out of Keith, but now seeing how vague his words were as he tried to hide in the darkness, it made Lance realize he may be treading on thin ice._ _

__“Because I’m supposed to.”_ _

__Lance heaved out a sigh, feeling his facial features twist with resentment. “Says who?” he pushed a little too forcefully._ _

__Keith’s head whipped back to face Lance, and Lance nearly stepped back at seeing the intensity of his eyes. They were left exposed by the explosive, dark fire blazing in them, melting the cold wall Keith had forced between them. He could feel the tension dissolve from Keith, the searing ire consuming his previously chilling aura._ _

__“ _Everyone!_ ” he yelled, bringing his hands up to shove against Lance’s chest, forcing Lance to release his grip and step back into the cold gloom. “The directors, all my fans, my fucking manager— _ex_ -manager now—along with all you guys,” he shouted, shooting a forbidding look through the darkness. _ _

__“What the hell are you talking about?” Lance shouted back, not following Keith’s train of thought at all. “No one is saying that! If anything I’m telling you to _not_ accept so I can get the part myself!” _ _

__Keith brought his gloved hands up to either side of his face, grasping at the dark strands of his hair in frustration. His fingers clawed at his scalp as he let out a cry of piqued outrage, the forest fire in his eyes engulfing him completely now. “ _Why?_ ” Keith vociferated, an acidic laugh erupting from his throat. “Why the _hell_ did I even bother trying to explain to you?” his hands slid down to cover his face as he shook his head, hunching over. _ _

__Lance treaded forward, his voice quiet but equally exasperated, “Explain what?”_ _

__“God,” Keith choked out another bitter laugh, lifting his head from his hands, his nebulous violet eyes moving to look up at Lance. “That I’m _gay,_ Lance.” _ _

__Lance blinked. The information took a minute to register, but by the time it did, the regret that swelled up in Keith’s widening eyes was what caught Lance more._ _

__Oh._ _

__—_ _

__Shit._ _

___Shit._ _ _

__It had only been seconds after Keith blurted out his biggest problem and secret that he realized how royally screwed he was. Lance hadn’t spoken yet, but his blank look of relative surprise told Keith all he needed to know. His gut twisted painfully._ _

__“I…” Keith forced himself to speak, his eyes flicking down to the floor where they would be safe from any further reactions from Lance. “Listen, I—“_ _

__“ _That’s_ your problem?” _ _

__Keith looked up, his eyes accidentally locking with Lance’s. “What?” There was too much in Lance’s tone for Keith to decipher where this conversation was headed, not like Keith was all that skilled with people anyway. He cursed himself for pushing Lance away, because now he was the only one in the light, and it felt vulnerable. He could barely make out where Lance was, let alone his expressions._ _

__Lance huffed, “You’re really stupid, you know that?”_ _

__A small, painful flicker of pain lit up inside Keith, and he crossed his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed, his back straightening as he opened his mouth to retort, “Thanks. And your ability to comfort people is incredible.”_ _

__But Lance stepped forward, returning himself to the dim lamplight. Keith was struck with a wave of confusion as Lance’s features became visible, a small grin on his face paired with crossed arms that mirrored Keith’s._ _

__“You actually had me going there for a second, I thought you were gonna say something actually bad,” Lance mused._ _

__“What’re you talking about?” Keith retaliated, “I’m gonna lose my job because of this! I already lost my manager today, there’s no way they’re gonna keep me on set once Z tells them I can’t do the scene.” He knew he would have to do it in the end to keep his job, but his frustrations and worries and emotions were all bundled and weaved together like some untie able Gordian knot. Of course, Keith’s best solution to this was to pour it all out onto the ground in front of him, which was turning out just great._ _

__He watched as Lance rolled his brightening eyes, his grin softening into a smile. “Nope, you’re overthinking it. I already have a plan.”_ _

__Keith frowned. “A plan?”_ _

__Lance nodded, turning and beginning to walk down the way they had come. Clearly not waiting, Keith was forced to go after him. Lance rose his arms above him, crossing them behind his head. He couldn’t understand why Lance didn’t see what was at stake here, or why he was suddenly so perky. There wasn’t a way to fix this… _problem_ he was born with. _ _

__“Well, sure there’s a few steps to the plan I got in mind, but with Pidge and Hunk’s help, and Allura, if I can convince her, we’ll get it done in no time,” he prattled on._ _

__Keith shook his head in disbelief, his steps syncing with Lance’s._ _

__“What—what’re you doing?” he finally asked, making Lance pause and give him a confused side glance._ _

__“Helping you out?” he responded dubiously._ _

__“No, I mean…” Keith slowed, and this time, Lance slowed down for him, not taking his eyes off Keith. “Why are you helping me?” They had always hated each other, or at least, Lance had always hated him. Regardless of how this turned out, Keith couldn’t see Lance getting anything out of it. Unless he was trying to get Keith fired sooner._ _

__“Since when do I need a reason to help someone?” Lance shot back._ _

__Keith scrupled to speak, eventually opting to not speak at all. After a few moment of silence passed, Lance started walking again. The duo was then walking en bloc once more, the only sound being the echo of their footsteps down the long hall. In other situations like this, Keith constantly felt out of place, the pressure of starting a conversation a heavy weight on his shoulders. He would slouch under that pressure, but for some reason, there was no whispering demands for him to speak this time around. To his side, Lance had begun whistling. It was a fairly upbeat tune, recognizably familiar to Keith, but one he couldn’t quite place. He was tempted to ask, yet it somehow felt intrusive and he didn’t know why._ _

__Needing a distraction, he let his eyes travel over the uneven concrete walls, soon growing bored. His gaze moved downward, catching on his own hand—the very hand he had used to bash Z’s face in. The area over the knuckles on his dark glove was covered in some dark liquid. Though he couldn’t tell for sure, he knew it was blood. He felt a small smile tug at the edges of his lips._ _

___So worth it._ _ _

__Lance halted suddenly from the corner of Keith’s peripheral vision, startling him from his thoughts. Looking up, he realized they were already back in the expansive, chair-filled room, and Lance was giving him a curious look. It wasn’t as dark as it was in the hall, but without the lights turned on and only the moonlight available to them, it still took an effort to see. Time had passed faster when his overwhelming thoughts weren’t suppressing the clock’s gears, he guessed._ _

__“Okay, so, step one. Tomorrow morning we’re having a meeting, right before we start shooting. I’m stopping by Pidge’s later tonight so she can get the data we need, and I’ll fill Hunk in later,” he stated. “All you gotta do is show up.”_ _

__Keith nodded, even though he wasn’t really sure how invested he was in this ‘plan.’ He didn’t think the situation could get any worse, so what else did he have to lose anyway?_ _

__A freaking _lot,_ apparently, was the right answer, since tomorrow was quite possibly the worst day of his life._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you guys think! 
> 
> i also wanted to apologize for my shitty writing, im kinda struggling right now and im just trying to push through it, so all the feedback and comments really do help me out
> 
> thanks for reading :)


	3. i'm sorry, what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get complicated, but decisions are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven’t explained this yet, and just in case you didn’t notice from the last two chaps, you should know that in the show the paladins are called by their colors (ex.: Keith’s character is Red, not Keith Kogane). because what TV show names their characters after their real actor’s names, right? i don’t know, i tried to make it more realistic rather than confusing. whoops.

“ _That’s_ your plan?” 

Lance had kept his word, quickly exiting the set to favor a quick trip to Pidge’s place. It didn’t take long to drive over, and only as he pulled into the parking lot near her apartment did he saw the small genius walking up the steps to the entrance. He was in Pidge’s small apartment; even with her large paycheck she had chosen to keep the housing luxuries to a minimum, especially since she was mostly on set, at school, or visiting her parents with Matt. 

Being in Pidge’s room may seem ridiculously small to any other well-off actor, but Lance only found it to be homey. Then again, he did grow up with a huge family, one constantly bustling and thriving around him, so excessive space was not very typical. 

The oak wood accent walls reached up halfway to the ceiling, the upper remaining half a calming olive green. There was one large window that was invariably closed because, as Pidge put it, ‘air conditioning is a much more effective ventilation system than Mother Nature.’ Otherwise the room was relatively plain, a bookshelf beside the desk Pidge was currently working at, a teal love seat, and a bunk bed she had bought just in case her brother—or a friend, which did occur on occasion—needed a place to sleep. 

“Uh, yeah?” Lance replied sheepishly. “I mean, it’ll work, if you just get me the stats to prove it.”

“Me hacking into some major corporations for info isn’t the problem here Lance,” she stated matter-of-factly, pushing up her glasses with a kind middle finger. 

_I know that,_ he acknowledged solely to himself, but said nothing in response.

Pidge sighed through his silence, motioning for Lance to sit on the open love seat. She twisted in her wheeling chair, facing back to her computer as she returned to her work. Albeit Lance knew their characters were based off the actors themselves for more believability, it still amused him to see how similar their characters were to the real thing. 

“Are you sure you even talked to Keith?” she questioned dubiously, her eyes glued on her screen as she clacked away. Lance was sure she was breaking some sort of record with that typing speed. 

“Yes!” Lance rose his voice defensively. “The plan is a _real_ thing, okay! It’s going to work.” 

Pidge’s work ethic slowed, her concentration wavering between the conversation and her task. “How do you know?” 

Lance scoffed, “You’ve seen the statistics yourself. Even if you can’t believe in us, you can believe in the cold hard facts. I’m sure.” He really wasn’t.

She sighed once more, it was quieter this time. “Lance, I’m not—I do, believe in you… it’s just…” Pidge pushed her chair to face Lance to her side, and he braced himself for harsh criticism—not that it actually helped. It had done absolutely nothing to shield him from her surprising next words.

“You talked to Keith about this plan, and he agreed?” 

He went silent, giving her yet another unusually self-conscious look. He brought a hand up to the nape of his neck, as if it would provide him any comfort. “Well… more like I, explained there _was_ a plan, and that he didn’t have to worry about?” Lance winced at her groan, watching her drop her head in her small but capable hands. 

“Well what else was I supposed to tell him, Pidge!” he shot back. She silently rose her head, staring daggers at Lance that was reminded him of his earlier conversation with Keith. It only served to deepen his pitiful guilt. 

“The truth,” she deadpanned. 

_Ouch._

“Technically, I didn’t lie! I just left out some… considerate details, is all.” 

“That’s what they call lying nowadays?” replied Pidge’s unsympathetic voice, her body turning back to put full attention towards her computer. Lance sat there for a while in the quiet, the only break being the sound of the running ac unit, and Pidge’s inhuman typing and clicking. Having reverted to his silent state, he wondered if he could even pull off the first meeting. 

“You’re doing an awful lot for someone you hate, you know,” she told him, her voice a near whisper. It had made him hold his breath. This wasn’t a big deal, what he was doing for Keith was what any other kind human being was doing, it wasn’t like he valued Keith specially. 

_You sure about that?_ a deeper, darker, locked-up part of him mused. 

He shook away the thought like a man-eating spider had crawled on his head. Even if it was the truth, he was only biased because he understood Keith, right? Totally. He paused in thought, the memories of his teenage in-the-closet drama more dramatic than he had hoped for. It really wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell his family about his bisexuality, but more of that he was in a stuck-in-the-closet-because-he-was-forcibly-shoved-back-into-it situation. His papá hadn’t even acknowledged it in the beginning, passing it off as ‘another stupid teenage phase,’ while his mamá was too busy with work and family at home to have a real conversation with him about it. 

He remembered first announcing it during family dinner years back, his parents and siblings had been there, even two of his cousins who were staying the week. No one had said anything at first—no one knew how to react. Lance didn't blame them, at the time he hadn’t had any friends with a situation like his. His papá was the first one to dismiss him, curtly chastising him for interrupting their meal. His mamá seemed shocked, but otherwise said nothing. Lance had begun to regret his decision, _what’s the point if no one believes me, or even cares?_

That’s when Lance’s second youngest sister, Aleja, spoke up. She was only five at the time, back when she was missing teeth and always had her long brown hair braided to the side. 

_”So you like boys too?” she had burst out into one of the biggest smiles Lance had seen. “That’s so cool!”_

With that came the barrage of questions, that Lance was grateful for rather than the drowning silence of earlier. It wasn’t long before his siblings joined in, as well as his two cousins, becoming more enthusiastic as their conversation grew. 

Lance knew back then and even now that his father didn’t approve, but as the years passed and he had time to adjust, he had begun to understand his son. They still talked and spent time together, but it became harder to see his father, let alone his family. 

“ _Lance._ ”

He was snapped out of his reminiscence, his eyes flying to meet Pidge’s as she gave him an offhanded look. 

“I’m done,” she said in a tone that led Lance to believe she was repeating herself, “and I’m not sending you the files because I’m coming to the meeting tomorrow too.”

Lance was prepared to protest, but actually processing those words, he realized it would be in his favor if he led Pidge come along. He needed all the help he could get. “Alright, fine with me,” he nodded, standing up. He took out his phone as Pidge shuffled in her seat, glancing at the time with a frown. _When did it get that late?_

“Here,” her voice piped up, and Lance didn’t need to look up to see the packet she had outstretched in front of him. His frown deepened, and he brought up his gaze to eye the small girl suspiciously. 

“I thought you said you weren’t giving me the documents?” 

“I’m not,” she said with a sly grin. “It’s something else you’re gonna like, don’t worry.” 

He rose a brow, “That makes me even more worried, you know.” 

Shrugging, Pidge turned back to face her desk, but the smirk was still clearly visible from her profile. He looked down in his hands, turning on his heels and slowly wandered to the door. Immediately after his eyes scanned the title of the stapled stack of printer paper, he froze mid-step, his face flushing with color. He was sure his embarrassment was so tangible that Pidge could sense it, since she immediately broke out into unconcealed laughter. 

“Oh my _god, _Pidge, I hate you!”__

__She only laughed harder._ _

__—_ _

__Keith had ended up sneaking into his own on-set trailer to sleep that night. It couldn’t really be considered ‘sneaking,’ since he had the keys, but he wasn’t supposed to stay on set after-hours. He tried to avoid breaking the rules, as trivial as they seemed, to prevent losing the one (and recently only) job that kept him sane._ _

__Admittedly his original plan had been to crash at Pidge’s, but soon after Lance had told him that was the exact place he planned to ‘drop by,’ Keith decided the risk of breaking into his trailer was actually worth it after all. Now that he had time to think it through in silence, he had only wanted to go to Pidge to seek verbal solace, though Lance managed to ease his frayed nerves._ _

__Looking around the dark trailer, he sought out the inflatable bed in the corner. Keith knew the trailers were supposed to be used for the sole purpose of breaks, but he doubted anyone would care if they did find out he stayed here. He was completely alone, no one to talk to or punch in the face or accidentally come out to, and that fact gave him comfort._ _

__What didn’t give him comfort, though, was the persistent, nagging reminder of tomorrow painfully tapping the back of his skull._ _

___Is it possible that I’m even more screwed than I was when I started the day?_ he wondered as his back hit the mattress, his eyes wide open and staring up at the trailer’s high ceiling. Keith silently wished he could see the stars. _Maybe I can convince Z to let me install a giant sunlight…__ _

___Ah._ his mind helpfully prodded the reminder. _That’s right, I punched my manager in the face today. No big deal.__ _

__His thoughts wound down to ponder the events of tomorrow. He mused over the idea of finding a new manager rather than on the damage Zarkon would wreck to get back at Keith. He relived the moment of his punch, how a just sense of pride flooded over him, only to be overrun by terror. With Zarkon’s patently amiable personality, Keith was surprised he hadn’t been killed on the spot._ _

__He huffed in the darkness, the heels of his boots still planted on the floor, as the remaining chronological events trickled by gentler than before. He thought of the absurd club posters, and how someone had actually come after him to see if he was okay, and even—_ _

__his confession._ _

__Keith outwardly cringed, thankful for his wise choice of keeping the lights off as he felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t know how coming out for the first time was _supposed_ to go, but he had a good feeling this wasn’t it. The whole ordeal was ridiculously embarrassing, and to tell _Lance_ of all people. The dude hated him, and Keith couldn’t understand why Lance offered to help—well, more like Lance decided he was helping, and didn’t give Keith a choice in the matter. Even so, none of it made any sense, and his freakout in the hall only made Lance more adamant. _ _

__In Lance’s defense, Lance had said he didn’t need a reason to be nice to Keith. He still couldn’t help himself though—Lance was different to him then he was to everyone else on set. They never got along, Lance persistently annoyed him, and pulled childish pranks on him on a near daily basis, so excuse Keith if he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Lance willingly offering Keith a hand._ _

__Bringing up his own hands to cool his warm face, he covered his eyes._ _

__He couldn’t even imagine what demon tomorrow was going to be._ _

___With my luck, it’ll probably the Devil himself,_ he paused in thought. _Well, I am seeing Lance tomorrow…_ He knew if Pidge could hear his thoughts she would compliment him on that last one. He couldn’t tell if that was a bad thing or not. _ _

__Regardless, hypothesizing fake scenarios wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Heaving out a deep, forced breath, he cajoled himself into a fretful, unsatisfying sleep. The last thing he could recall thinking about was the song Lance hummed on their quiet walk back from the hall._ _

__—_ _

__Keith didn’t remember waking up._ _

__He was vaguely aware of his eyes opening, barely awake as the sun seemed to rise, equally as sluggish and unwillingly. He didn’t need a clock to know it was already too early to be up and moving. Sighing, he lifted his hand from its comfortable position flung over his face. The early morning light was obnoxiously shining through the open blinds, reminding Keith he wasn’t going to get a break today._ _

__He was sitting upright now, realizing he hadn’t moved an inch from where he slept last night. He had napped in the same clothes he had worn yesterday. Instantly regretting his laziness, he left his trailer to see no one yet on set. Thankful, he went back inside to grab a spare set of clothes before rushing over to the showering trailers._ _

__The jacket had stayed with him. It was one of the only belongings he had since he was little and lived in children’s homes. It didn’t serve to protect him from the elements as much as give him a personalized look. Not only did it look good, it was one of the only things he felt sentimental about._ _

__Originally he only wore it in his free time, but when he first auditioned for the part of Red, the jacket had caught the writer’s attention. Since the show had been concentrated on developing around the actors as well as implementing workable personality traits from the initial script, they decided to allow him to wear the jacket while acting as well._ _

__He knew the jacket wasn’t the actual reason behind his hiring, but his past. He didn’t talk about it when he could avoid it, but his acting career had begun years ago in one of his first adoptive parents’ home. The couple who had taken him in were nice enough, but entirely obsessed with the entertainment industry. He was taken in by an agent in his early childhood, and even after that first family sent him back to the him after having their own child, he continued working in the movie business. At first, it was hard to keep up acting while moving between families and homes. In his early teens, though, Shiro’s family had found him. He had gotten lucky, and after the beginning months of suspicion and cautiousness faded, he genuinely grew to love his new family._ _

__That was years ago, and now he making it on his own. He still visited Shiro’s family and their home every once in a while, but he mainly directed his attention to his work. Either crashing in his trailer, or Pidge’s place for a few days when he got caught, he didn’t stay at the Shirogane household anymore. It wasn’t that he no longer cared, but that he wanted to prove he didn’t need to rely on their help. Often Pidge asked why he didn’t buy his own place yet, Shiro had too—until he had discovered where Keith was putting his money._ _

__Keith had finished showering and changing when his phone went off, he had received a text from a contact he hadn’t seen in months._ _

__Lance: hey mullet_ _

__Lance: meeting starts in ten_ _

__Lance: you better not chicken out 8)_ _

__He was thinking of a reply to the first text when the next had come in, then the third. After waiting a moment just to ensure there were no more incoming messages, he typed out a simple response._ _

__Keith: Me chickening out? I’m surprised you even followed through._ _

__Nearly a second after he had pressed send, another message came in. If Lance had one talent Keith could never beat him at, it was texting._ _

__Lance: whatever mullet_ _

__Lance: just hurry up so we have time to go over the details_ _

__Keith nodded to himself, then belatedly remembered no one was around to see him. Pocketing his phone, he shrugged on his jacket and headed to the meeting room. Walking down the corridors reminded him of his last confrontation in that conference room. He pondered the thought of Z showing up, and how things would pan out if he did._ _

___Nothing good,_ he concluded._ _

__The double doors leading into the room had been left a crack open, allowing just enough room for coherent sound to pass through._ _

__“Keith is showing up, correct?” the kind voice of one of the show’s main editors sounded, her tone gentle but professional. He heard no response, and assumed someone had nodded in response._ _

__Taking this as his cue, Keith pushed the doors open, stepping inside the oblong room. There were a few situated around the center table, with a young notetaker off to the side, their seat pressed up against the wall. He spotted Lance across the room with Hunk, who was working on the projector. Meanwhile, Pidge was hooking up her computer to the protector that shone bright, blank light against the sole windowless wall behind them. All conversation cut short as he entered, everyone’s gaze moving to meet his own._ _

__“Keith! Finally,” Lance breathed, waves of relief washing over the other boy. Keith began to walk over, only to have Lance meet him halfway, nearly dragging him over to where Pidge and Hunk stood. Leaning in, he whispered, “So, what’s the plan exactly?”_ _

__Lance hesitated as they stopped beside the other two beside the projector. “Uh, I’ll explain later? We really need to get this meeting started, so—just go with it?”_ _

__Keith gave Lance a short nod, he was trusting him. After all, he only knew the biggest secret he was trying to keep from everyone around him. Taking a deep breath, he sat down beside Pidge, knowing all too well that everyone was expecting something big. All the huge contributors and creators of the show were sitting around the table, wondering why four of their five star actors were waking them up early for this—Keith was wondering the same, really._ _

__Clapping his hands together, Lance grabbed the room’s attention with ease. “Okay everyone, listen up. I’ve summoned you all here to talk about some of the recent decisions made for this season. One of these decisions being Red’s sudden and intimate relationship with a certain girl. To put it plainly, we could do _so_ much better.” _ _

__The thought wafted through his mind like the smell of rotting fish, making him want to scrunch up his nose in disgust. The idea that Lance would attempt to switch their roles, or maybe try to get Keith fired. What Keith hoped was an unrealistic thought of Lance admitting his secret here in front of everyone even came up, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. Lance enjoyed joking around, but he knew where to draw the line, didn’t he?_ _

__“Oh? What do you suggest?” a producer spoke up._ _

__Lance shot a smile at the questioning man in a flash, finger gunning with one hand, “I’m glad you asked. Pidge?”_ _

__As asked, Pidge pressed a finger lightly across the computer laying across her crossed lap. An image of a colorful pie chart alongside detailed statistics appeared, and Lance went on, his back facing the chart as he looked at his intrigued audience._ _

__“We gathered information from multiple, popular social media websites, and these were the results,” he motioned to the lit wall behind him. “The colors represent the most popular ships. Now, what’s the most prominent color?”_ _

__“Purple,” Hunk answered._ _

__“Thank you, Hunk,” Lance said. “Yes, purple. Also popularly referred to as _Klance_.” Keith was at a loss for thoughts, let alone words. There was no way this was what Lance meant by his genius ‘plan.’_ _

__“What exactly are you proposing?” asked another—a writer._ _

__“To speak plainly, I think we should cater to our audience. Rather than complicate and confuse our viewers by involving Keith with a girl—one who, just to remind you, will need to be developed in such a way to generate approval from our audience—we should make both our lives, and our viewers’ lives, easier.”_ _

__Silence followed, those around the table either pondering Lance’s words or inspecting the pie chart for themselves. Keith still hadn’t shaken off the stunned pinging ringing in his mind._ _

__“Plus,” Pidge spoke up, her strong voice determined, “it shows support of all kinds of people, and isn’t that what this show likes to portray? Acceptance? Red being Galra, acceptance of race, Allura, Coran, and Green, acceptance of loss, and Blue’s feeling of inadequacy and homesickness, acceptance of oneself and sadness that comes with life. Why shouldn’t we express acceptance of sexuality as well?”_ _

__This following silence was heavily contemplative, and Pidge helped bring up some serious points. Keith had to admit, her character was fitting to her personality. He gave her a small smile, and she caught it, smiling back. She was right, this show was worldwide, and if they got the chance to represent something discriminated against, they should take it. Taking the safe path never saved the world, why would that change now?_ _

__“So,” Lance cleared his throat, bringing everyone’s attention to him once more, “let’s make Klance canon.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the shorter chapter, i’ve been a bit preoccupied with some stuff irl, i didn't mean to take so long!
> 
> also, u guys aren’t supposed to know the extra document Pidge gave Lance yet, it’s a surprise >;)


	4. drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry it’s been so long. i’m back now though, so here’s the new (and belated) chapter.  
> hope you enjoy. ^_^

The rest of the meeting seemed to fade into a blur of colors and sounds around Keith, his unfocused gaze staying frozen on Lance. A humming buzz overtook any words being spoken, and all he could recognize was Lance’s blue eyes make contact with his own, before quickly breaking away. Moments passed, and he watched the two sparkling globes shift across to other areas of the room. 

As the thought of Lance making eye contact waned, those same uncatchable eyes landed on him again. Keith nearly jolted in his seat, Lance’s expression unwavering. 

“Keith.”

Pidge’s voice broke through the murmuring storm passing through his mind, and he snapped himself out of his self-induced trance. His gaze met Pidge’s, who was still sitting by the projector. Her rich honey eyes were narrowed in hard concern, and Keith immediately recognized he had been asked a question. 

“Huh?” he asked dumbly. 

Someone beside him spoke, a now clear voice cutting through the numbing panic. Thankfully, the gruff voice, besides a bit intimidating, didn’t sound bothered. “What do you think of the idea? If we’re following through with this, we need to make sure we’re all in agreement.” 

Keith let himself be absorbed by his thoughts again, this time with the reality of the situation joining along with him. Telling himself to be logical, this wasn’t a bad idea. Although other fans that preferred different ships with Red or Blue might be disappointed, there would always be a downside to decisions like these. Plus, adding a female character to get with Red brought up even more problems than letting Klance become a thing. Pidge had brought up good points too; following through would show support of non-heterosexual couples. Though this would bring in negative responses from some, the pros reasonably outweighed the cons. 

So why was he hesitating? 

When any situation was clear to him, when the outcomes were obvious, Keith didn’t delay in making the best choice. He may be a bit more impulsive than necessary, but he wasn’t dumb. There was no reason not to accept. 

Bracing himself, he turned to the owner of the rough voice. 

“I don’t see why not,” he responded in a calmer voice than he felt. “There’s no way we can please everyone regardless, and this way, we would at least satisfy the most fans.”

“I agree,” the relaxed, female writer from earlier put in. “Though my people will need a few days to rework the script, I’m sure they won’t be too annoyed with the change.” 

As others began to join the conversation, all of which mostly chipping in encouraging feedback, a vote was cast. When the casting director called for a show of hands, everyone in the room had raised their hands in favor of this new plan. 

“It’s settled then.” one of the two directors said, standing up. “Since we have a week before we start shooting for the new season, we’ll need to work fast, but as long as we all put in the effort and time, we can make this work. Otherwise, I think this meeting’s done.” 

Those seated around the table nodded, getting up and leaving at their own pace, the sounds of chairs pressing uncomfortably against the wood floors and the double doors opening. Keith stayed sitting, his eyes were on the man who had just spoke across from him—their director, Varkon—who was staring right back at him. From his periphery, he noticed Pidge had left her spot to be beside Keith. Hunk was off to the side, talking to Lance in a hushed fashion. 

“Quite frankly, Keith, I’m both equally shocked and glad that you two are getting along,” he told Keith, a tired smile on his face. “I’d never imagine you’d take this route to solve your differences, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say I’m pleased you did.” 

Keith only nodded; he couldn’t trust his voice. Too many doubts plagued his tongue for him to open his mouth and pave an escape for them all. Thankfully though, the nod was enough for the man in front of him, who finally turned to walk over to Hunk and Lance. 

“You agreed.” 

Keith turned in his chair to face Pidge, letting his eyes move away from Varkon, Hunk, and Lance’s newly engaged conversation. He let out a sigh, “I’m not sure what exactly I have agreed to, but, yes. I did.” 

“You know we’re talking about this later, right?” she told him, holding so much unbelievable resolution that he didn’t bother argue. He knew he would lose this one before he even started. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

A loud squeak broke his gaze away from Pidge, re-landing on the trio across the room. From the strange facial features on Hunk and their director, he could only assume the sound originated from Lance. The shocked look on Lance’s face was just another _slight_ clue that he caused it. 

“Regardless, we should be back up and running in a day or two. We can’t handle taking more time to work on the script or else we’ll fall even more behind,” Keith could hear Varkon say. 

“Are you sure?” Hunk parried. “Don’t you think all this extra work will stress out the writers?” 

“Well,” Varkon began, taking up a more serious tone, “we’re paying them for it, and as long as Lance’s predictions of increased views and income are correct, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Keith watched as Lance’s competitive side—really the only side Keith was familiar with—burst abruptly, his tan arms crossing over his chest in retaliation. “Don’t worry, you won’t,” he responded, blue eyes tinted with a smug sparkle. 

Varkon had moved in such a way that Keith could only see his back now. He couldn’t gauge his reaction. The moment of challenge didn’t last long, with Varkon dismissing Lance with the swipe of the hand. “I wish you two the best of luck. We’ll contact you once the script is finished. For now,” he turned his body to be able to look at both Lance and Keith, “work on getting to know one another. If it isn’t real outside set, it won’t be real on set.” 

Keith knew some set couples who barely talked off set and managed to keep their scenes realistic, but then there were others that didn’t leave each other’s sides until they were finished completely. He had no idea where they would rank on that scale, and frankly he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. 

“I’m going to pretend your silence comes from your overwhelming excitement at the idea of working together,” Varkon continued, forcing a smile. “Good luck you two.” 

With that, their director walked off—a new method he had decided on utilizing rather than his set-famous Segway. It had been a shock to everyone to see him _walk_ onto set three weeks ago. There had been conspiracies for a while, mostly that of Pidge’s, Lance’s, and a few from Hunk and Keith when the general good idea struck them. The most famous of them was Varkon being replaced by an alien—made popular by Keith, then soon after Pidge, who had taken his side. Keith had been sad to find out the truth behind it, really. In actuality, Varkon had only made the switch after an annual doctor’s visit, where he was dutifully informed of the Segway’s affect on his weight.

With the room’s entrance now closed, the tense atmosphere began to thin, an air of victory emerging in its place. The four of them looked between each other, Keith’s gaze lingering on Lance as Lance smiled. “We actually did it.” 

“ _Why_ did we do this again?” Hunk asked, raising a brow. Keith faltered, _Did he tell Hunk?_ Keith realized he hadn’t told Lance not to say a word about his sexuality. That prickle of panicked fear began to spread from its hearth and outwards through him. Lance might not understandable—probably couldn’t understand—he comfortably flirted with every girl that entered his field of sight. Someone like that wouldn’t be able to help someone like Keith. 

“Lance you literally just added more pressure onto the two of you, you realize that, right?” Pidge chipped in. “I get the stats say this will make VLD gain even more popular, but they’re not always accurate. People are fickle and your audience can turn on you in a moment.” 

In return, Lance exaggerated a huff. “And your pessimism isn’t helping anyone, Pidge. Trust me, Keith and I—we got this. One of us will probably end up saving the other and proclaim our eternal undying _love_ ,” he replied, using air quotations on the last word, “then our job’s done.” 

Pidge gave an unimpressed look, “Unless you lose it before you get the chance to finish it.”

“Ouch,” Lance exclaimed with his best faux, hurt look, placing his palm onto his chest. “You guys have absolutely no faith in us, do you?”

“Well…” Hunk began hesitantly. 

“You two always fight,” Pidge brought up.

“Plus you never agree on anything,” Hunk added.

Keith didn’t see the point in being optimistic about this; he didn’t have a manager, and next he was going to get fired for trying to hide being gay by being gay on set which most likely entailed pretending to be gay off-set as well. 

_Try thinking that ten times fast._

Ignoring his gayception, he decided to throw his own point in the mix, “Lance tries to talk shit behind my back.”

Lance gasped, “I do not!” 

He rolled his eyes, continuing, “And then tries to play it off like he doesn’t. You know, for an actor, you’re shockingly bad at what you do. How did you get this job anyway?” Lance stood staring down at Keith, an amusing look smacked across his face. 

“See what we mean?” Hunk spoke, interrupting their face off. The two of them turned their heads in sync, Lance’s mouth already open to argue. 

“You know, maybe if—“ Lance tried, but was halted by Pidge. 

“I bet they won’t make it a week,” she said matter-of-factly to Hunk, adjusting her glasses to stare the two of them down better. 

Hunk gave her a shocked look, “A week? Wow, a bit generous don’t you think?” 

“Hunk!” Lance cried, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Prove us wrong, then.” 

“Fine,” Lance declared, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “Come on, Keith, we’ll show them.”

Keith crossed his arms, raising a brow at Lance. He thought it through, remembering why he was doing all this in the first place. Sure, he knew Lance didn’t understand Keith, but at least he hadn’t given up on him yet. It seemed like he had kept Keith’s secret, and for that, Keith trusted him—for now, at least. 

Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and went over to stand beside Lance, who shot him a bright smile. “Guess we’re doing this,” Keith frowned in return.

“I’m glad we all share such hopeful looks on this,” Lance regarded, placing his hands on his hips. “Anyway, to celebrate this obvious win, I’m taking us all out for drinks. On Keith.” 

Keith glared, “Just how stupid are you? It’s not even noon yet, and there’s no way I’m paying for you to get drunk and flirt with other girls.” 

“Aw, is someone jealous?” Lance jeered, turning to make his way out into the hall. “See, guys? This is totally gonna work out.” Hunk joined him soon after, shaking his head, as did Pidge, who huffed under her breath, “I doubt this is gonna end well.” 

So did Keith, but he walked forward despite his dubiety. 

Out in the hallway, Lance was already preoccupied with figuring out which bar would be open this early. Pidge was typing something out on her phone, and Hunk was muttering something to Pidge, a strange look distorting his normally relaxed features. Keith decided to ask about it later. In the meantime, Lance had evidently resolved that the one down the street was conveniently open, and tended not to have many visitors, regardless of the hour. 

“Kogane,” a gruff voice broke the chatter into small, eventually ceaseless pieces. 

Keith looked a few feet in front of them to see the man who used to be his manager staring him straight in the eye. He did not look pleased. Then again, it could also be his face, which now had a satisfying purple bruise running across his face. “You didn’t inform me about the meeting, and I was just told a few minutes ago about what was happening. By a subordinate, no less.” 

“And I was supposed to?” Keith inquired flatly.

“As your manager, yes, things would go smoother if—“

He couldn’t help it, he had to ask, “Manager?”

Zarkon paused, giving Keith an esoteric look. “Yes,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a foreigner with little knowledge of English, “Remember? I’ve been your manager for a while, Kogane.” 

He was aware of the other three staring, though it didn’t serve to calm nor ground him. Keith didn’t even grace his apparent manager a response, he was too busy digging his fingernails into his jacket. Even after punching him in the face, the want to claw out his eyes from his sockets remained strong. 

“If you think this is about our talk earlier,” he went on, “it’s not why I’m here. This new development, in fact, is a good outlet for you. It is, after all, just acting.” 

From his peripheral, he noticed expressions morph and change into a sour conglomeration. Lance, the only one with the information to read between the lines, scowled conspicuously. Hunk didn’t seem to understand, but could perceive the negative undertone. Pidge’s phone was dark, and she had only peered up to watch Z with her cold chestnut eyes.

Keith could fire him, right here, easy—but then what? He wasn’t sure he could trust anyone else to be his manager anyway, and there was no way he could work without one. The dark spark flickered inside him again, his thoughts dampening rather than growing lighter. As hard as it was to think it, he needed Zarkon. He had been his manager ever since he was recognized and signed up for his first acting gig. 

“I’m glad we talked, Keith,” he said, using the only thing Keith had since birth—his name—so selfishly, he could practically feel the filth clinging onto it. He couldn’t muster up the strength to push down his urge to scream while talking, so he continued sitting in silence as his manager went on, “Today you may do what you like, but once you get your lines, start working immediately. I don’t have time for you to waste your own.” 

“ _Waste_?” Lance seethed. 

Pidge was equally irritated, “Having a social life lets one develop a more sociable personality and makes for an overall healthier and happier human being. I wouldn’t consider that a waste.” 

“Now that you say it,” Lance pitched in, “it’s no wonder Z’s the way he is. We can’t blame him for being a little bitc—“ 

“Lance, Katie,” Zarkon smiled darkly, looking at them as if noticing their glares for the first time. “Always the upmost pleasure.” 

“What do you want?” Keith said, preventing anyone else from speaking. 

He turned his broad body back to Keith, an imposing figure in the center of the walkway, and nodded, “I simply wanted to express how glad I am you’re learning to control yourself. It only took your entire career, and then some.” 

_Two can play at that game._

“That right? How’s the bruise, by the way?” he deadpanned. “Looks like someone gave you Hell.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied cooly, now matching Keith’s crossed arms, “though they _are_ going to Hell, so there’s no reason for me to punish them myself. People like that always end up alone in the end.” 

Keith uncurled his arms and forced them to his sides, trying to maintain a cool look as he burned up inside. He couldn’t help the undercurrent, though, which was slowly sweeping Keith further and further out into sea. If he didn’t relax and reel himself back in, he knew he was going to drown. His mouth wanted to open, the instinct to protect himself pulsing painfully in the back of his mind, but those wants didn’t connect with his actions. 

He couldn’t move. 

“Good thing none of us are alone then, huh?” 

It took him longer than it should have to recognize who spoke, but he wasn’t too hard on himself. He was choking, and he would take any lifeline he could get. Thankfully for him and his collapsing lungs, Lance went on talking for him. 

“We’ve got each other,” he said, stepping closer to Keith, “and I think it’s sad that you’ll never know what having people who care about you is like.”

He only smiled in return; it was a cold, hard look that permeated his face no matter what fake expression he wore. “Down, boy. I’m leaving now anyway.” His gaze moved back to Keith, giving him a long look before turning around. “And Kogane, too much punch will burn out any outlet eventually.” 

Keith had been handed a scuba tank, and though he knew Z was right, though he knew he would run out of oxygen one day, he wasn’t going to waste the air he had now to worry about the future. If he had to guess, though, he didn’t have much of a future to think about in the first place. Plus, he was too stubborn to let Z have the last line.

“Of course, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he replied, prideful of the one good hit he got in during their tête-à-tête. He didn’t receive a response, and he was definitely counting that as a win. He wouldn’t have found ground without help though.

Keith turned his head as Lance did, and their eyes met, and he let himself relax. “Thanks,” Keith exhaled, realizing just how stupid thanking a famous, arrogant actor was. He watched as Lance’s blue eyes widened, brightening as much as his escaping smirk did. 

“Wait—“

“Nope, too late,” Lance said, puffing out his chest. “Keith Kogane, thanking _me_? Oh we’re definitely celebrating today… drinks are definitely still on you though.” Keith could only sigh. 

As Lance continued his walk, Keith finally noticed Pidge and Hunk. Hunk was staring down at Pidge’s phone with a worried shock, and Pidge was attempting not to laugh. 

“What’re you guys doing?” Two pairs of eyes flew up to his own, both of which blown wide, caught in the act. Hunk was the first to speak. 

“I had nothing to do with this! I told her not to!”

“Traitor,” Pidge hissed, but she could no longer hide her amusement. She was grinning. “Whatever, too late to take it back now anyway.”

“Take back what?” 

“Nothing,” she lied with every intention of him knowing. “Nothing at all.” 

“Pidge—“

Keith took a step towards her, only causing her to bolt down the hall. He wasn’t far behind, and neither was Hunk. They passed Lance, and soon they were all running. At their rushed pace, led by Pidge, it didn’t take long to reach the bar. Pidge’s antics had been easily pushed to the back of his mind as he passed through the bar’s doors in favor of a drink. The day had just begun and he already wanted to get his mind off things. Thankfully, a bar was a great place for distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone else remember Varkon? because i do, and this is happening now. #neverforgetvarkon2k17 
> 
> btw, updates will be more frequent now since im getting back into things.  
> serious thanks for those of you who stuck around :)


	5. Lance no baby what is you doing??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, to make up for my slow updating, here’s a long(er than usual) chapter! ayyy ~~your girl’s finally getting her shit together~~
> 
> and finally, Keith and Lance are starting to see eye to eye
> 
> if you’ve stuck along this far, thank you. i hope you enjoy :)

“Pidge where did you get that ID anyway? Aren’t you like, five?” Lance teased as the four of them sat along the bar, towards the back of the building. It had become a habit to find places to sit down furthest from the entrance. This way, they could avoid the constant barrage of fans. 

Lance didn’t mind the attention, and neither did Hunk, but Pidge cursed them for their amiability. She constantly avoided wearing green in public, ascertaining the ratio of her being found in green was remarkably higher than any other color. In spite of that, Lance was sure it had to do with her height. Keith, well, he grew up acting. Everyone knew that, so Lance wasn’t surprised he was so accustomed with fans. Thankfully, it was noon on a week day, so he doubted they’d have any surprise fan encounters. 

“That’s Shiro you’re talking about, and he’s six, actually,” snarked Pidge, flipping Lance the bird as she readjusted her glasses. 

“I’d return the favor,” Lance replied, nodding to her hand gesture, “but I don’t flip off children.” 

“Speaking of,” Pidge started as Hunk ordered them drinks, “I invited Shiro to come along, but he took this day off as a chance to take out Allura.” 

Hunk turned away from the bartender and easily fit himself in the conversation. “We invited Coran too, but he said he’s going to be a bit late.”

“Shay?” Lance asked, nudging his friend’s buff arm. 

Despite his dark complexion, Lance could see the slight pink tone rising from Hunk’s cheeks. “She’s walking over right now.” 

Lance felt the lull in conversation as the bartender brought them their drinks, the silence unusual in comparison to what was expected at any normal bar. He let himself scan the room around them, the place relatively empty, with a slight chill in the stale air. Across from him, there was a small group of colorful people huddled together in quiet conversation, occasionally looking up, as if planning in secret. A couple sat in a booth a few seats over, giving each other dopey smiles as they shared a margarita. Just a few feet away, there were three girls, glancing over and giggling. 

His attention was abruptly brought away from the trio when a cold beer was pressed into his hand. He felt his eyes drawn up to Hunk, who was shaking his head. 

“What?” he asked Hunk defensively. 

“Nothing,” he sighed. “You’re just gonna make me lose this bet.” 

“Bet?” Lance returned, but Hunk kept shaking his head. 

“By the way, those girls aren’t looking over here at you,” Hunk told him, leaning in. “Trust me, you don’t have a chance.” 

“Not like he would want one,” Pidge snorted. She had brought her legs up to sit criss-crossed atop the bar chair. “Though he does have horrible taste.” 

“I’m feeling very personally attacked today,” Lance exclaimed, suddenly getting out of his chair, “and just for the record, I could get those girls to fall for me _easy._ ”

“Is he already drunk?” Keith finally chipped in, looking over at Lance. 

Pidge rolled her hazelnut eyes, taking a what Lance still thought to be a very illegal swig of alcohol. No one on set actually knew Pidge’s age, or how she earned her position as Green. Anytime someone would bring it up, she would make a new story, and eventually everyone on set had chosen favorites. Hunk’s was the most facile of the group, suggesting Pidge had earned her spot just like the rest of them. Both Lance and Keith had disagreed; though Keith preferred some wild story involving extraterrestrial help Pidge had told during her first week of being Green, Lance had a different theory. Since the paladins were based on their actors, he liked to believe she hacked the system. How? Lance has no idea, but he knows for a fact that’s what happened. 

Lance’s eyes slid across the bar now, giving the girls a quick glance as he made up his mind. “You guys,” he started confidently, standing from his spot at the bar, “are gonna be _so_ jealous when I get a hot girl’s number.” 

He watched as the three of them turned to Lance, Pidge putting down her phone, Hunk taking a huge gulp of beer (obviously preparing himself to witness Lance’s charm), and Keith throwing him an incredulous look he didn’t quite understand. 

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith sibilated, instantly cut off by a grinning Pidge. 

“No, don’t. I wanna see this.” 

Lance felt an ominous chill run down his back as he turned away from Keith’s strange look, his own re-landing on the three girls who matched his gaze. He felt a faux, confident smirk overtake his features. Slipping into this playboy personality had always been as mechanical swimming—he could do from the moment he could walk. 

The girls noticed him approach immediately, their smiles growing in varied levels of excitement and amusement. Before Lance could complete the distance between them, one of the girls stepped forward. Her friends nudged her from behind, giggling to themselves as the long, light blue haired beauty made her move. 

The two of them met halfway, Lance opening his mouth to speak, just to be interrupted by the woman in front of him, her voice smooth and interested. “Excuse me, and I hope this isn’t too forward, but—“

Lance shot her a smug look, “Not at all.”

“—is your friend single?” 

Lance’s lips halted, his mouth completely open. Despite him looking like a gaping fish, her deep blue eyes watched his patiently. The only time her gaze broke away from his own shocked one was to glance just behind him. 

Physically shaking his head to pull himself out of his stunned state, he felt his face scrunch together as he let out, “What?” 

“Uh,” her smile turned nervous, “the one with the pretty eyes.” 

Lance couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and for a second there he had actually thought she was approaching _him_. In response he could only turn his head to look at his friends behind him, Hunk watching apprehensively, Pidge’s annoying smirk still plastered across her face like the Cheshire cat, and Keith giving him a blank look. He turned around quickly, hoping none of them noticed his surprise. 

“What?” he repeated, unable to say anything else.

The girl gave him an uncomfortable look, her smile wavering. “Never mind,” she told him, moving around Lance and beelining for the bar where his friends sat.

Lance whipped around, at first watching as she approached and spoke to the trio. It didn’t take more than a minute for her to finally expose who she had meant. Her body language was subtly than other girls Lance had hit on before, so not only was she clearly sober, she was clearly interested in…

He felt his feet move for him, himself nearing the bar, and the girl’s words steadily growing to a volume he could hear easily. 

“I’m Plaxum,” a genuine smile passed her face as she looked towards Keith, then the others to the side of him. 

“Keith,” he nodded at her, taking another sip of his drink. To Keith’s side, Pidge was raising a brow at Lance, who was yet to actually do anything. As of far, he had simply walked to the girl—Plaxum’s—side, standing silently. He was still trying to regain himself after that smack of a question. Thankfully, Pidge’s gaze was enough to snap him out of his stupor. 

“Actually, I was going to ask,” Plaxum began, her entire body facing Keith now, “if I, my friends and I, that is, could join you for a drink?” 

Keith’s attention was fully on her now, his eyebrows furrowing as he slowly brought down his beer. The strange look that passed his dark eyes told Lance all he needed to know; he had gotten by now that he was being hit on, and not at all in a furtive fashion. 

Lance was about to turn away, perfectly ready to slump on the other side of the bar ordering drinks and pretending to be deaf to Pidge’s taunts. Then he saw it. Before when Keith would receive attention instead of himself, he could feel the familiar envious weight bubble in his gut. Keith never had to try to attract looks from those around him, and even though Lance grew up fighting neck and neck with his siblings for attention, he still couldn’t compete with Keith. 

But he knew now. 

He saw the flicker of terror, a fleeting lightning bolt in the darkness of Keith’s eyes, his expression quickly hardening into a flat smile. Keith was always one to kindly decline female offers, and Lance attributed it to Keith’s ego being so big he didn’t think any girl was fit for him. 

But he _knew_ now. 

_How did I not realize he’s not an asshole earlier? He’s just a_ gay _asshole._

“Well,” Keith replied slowly, “you’re free to—“

Lance, finally regaining a grip on reality, smoothly sauntered over to Keith’s free side. Everyone’s attention had shifted to Lance, though Keith continued talking until Lance outstretched his arm around Keith’s abdomen and pulled him slightly closer. He could hear Keith quietly choke on his words, watching from his periphery as Keith’s deep violet eyes snapping up at Lance. He almost laughed at seeing Keith looked so shocked, his mouth even slightly parted. 

“Join us and my boyfriend’s friends,” Lance finished with a smile. 

Plaxum seemed to pause, her smile flattening at seeing Lance’s hand wrapped around Keith’s upper waist. When she looked back up at Lance, there was a challenge in her blue eyes. “You hit on girls when you have a boyfriend?” she retorted, her voice no longer so soothing.

_Shit._

“No,” he shot back a little too fast, then snorted and shook his head. “First off, I didn’t get to say a word before you started hitting on my man here, and second, I was going to ask if you were interested in my friend Hunk.” 

Hunk, more than a little surprised to be thrown in the conversation, shot up in his seat. “Uh… actually, Lance, I’m dating Shay, so…” Lance internally winced, but didn’t break eye contact with the girl in front of him. He knew Hunk didn’t want to let Lance down, but he couldn’t lie either. 

Hands on her hips now, Plaxum gave Lance one more look of disbelief before rolling her eyes, “Whatever.” She strutted back to her booth across the way, her two friends waiting eagerly, and never looked back. 

Pidge let out a mocking impressed whistle, “Wow, Lance, you really _are_ good with the ladies.” 

“Oh, shut up,” he huffed, giving her an annoyed look. “She wasn’t my type anyway.” Retrieving his hand from Keith’s waist, Lance pulled away, quick to grab his drink and take a long sip. 

“Lance, what was that?” 

Keith had finally spoken up since Lance had cut him off, and he was really hoping Keith was going to pretend none of that just happened. Lance hummed out a questioning noise, turning to Keith before taking another swig. 

“You could have—I don’t know—warned me?”

Lance waved his hand in the air dismissively. “It’s called _acting_ , Keith. Something you should learn to do too, if you wanna keep up with all this,” he told him, motioning to himself. 

“I’m just surprised you two are actually following through with the ‘making klance canon’ thing,” Hunk admitted as Lance slumped into his chair. 

“Yeah, Lance, why’re you guys doing this anyway?” her tone suggestive and smirk unfaltering. “‘Cause it sure seems like this is a front for you guys actually dating.”

Lance tilted his head on its side, his ear pressing up against his forearms underneath his head. It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Uh, or I’m taking a huge, Keith-sanctioned bullet to the chest for all of our careers.” He expected a retort from Keith, who sat beside Pidge and was glaring from behind her small frame. The challenging fleck that would cross those stormy eyes to warn Lance of the terrors ahead didn’t surface in those dark periwinkle skies. In lieu, there was a flash of emotion Lance couldn’t identify; the look was entirely unknown to him. 

A harsh scooting against the wooden floors sounded from behind Lance, Hunk’s seat being moved closer. “Actually,” he muttered, under the pretense that Pidge would disapprove. “I think it’s not a bad idea, all things considered…” When no one stopped him, he straightened in his chair and cleared his throat, preparing himself before going on. “Well first off, we’re no Game of Thrones, so I doubt there’s going to be anything explicit between Blue and Red.”

Pidge opened her mouth at that. 

Hunk spoke louder, “Even if there _was_ , they both have the option to call it off, or at least modify the script—they wouldn’t want to risk losing their actors on a world-famous show.” 

“Aw, Hunk, buddy, are you implying that we’re irreplaceable?” Lance dramatically swooned. His reappearing grin pulled him away from his prior female rejection, a broken record of a memory that wouldn’t stop repeating itself. 

“Then he’d be lying.” 

Hunk’s kind but honest words had formed a barrier, a glass dome insulating the warmth he emanated. Lance hadn’t quite noticed it, not consciously, until Keith’s harsh tone had been hard enough to crack that solidified bubble. 

His grin had faded away, its life short and un-lived. He turned to Keith, whose entire expression had gone cold. “Who stuck a cinnamon stick up your tight ass?” Lance retorted, leveling his gaze. 

Pidge had already pushed herself against the bar, not wanting to get in the way of what could most likely end in a fistfight. Though Lance didn’t doubt her strength and deftness—she had destroyed him once in a wrestling match last year, and even now no one knows how she did it—but Lance grew up with six siblings. Where Keith, for some reason Lance couldn’t understand, had picked dozens of fights before. 

And those were just the ones that happened in front of _Lance._

Keith flared, a reaction Lance could actually gauge for himself. He couldn’t remember when, but sometime during their curt exchange Keith had stood up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

“Any of us could be switched out, Lance,” Keith practically growled, his voice daring Lance to interrupt. “The only reason we’ve kept our jobs is because _we make sure to do them properly._ Not because we’re special.”

Lance huffed out a pity laugh, taking one last swig of his beer before standing up himself. He found himself mirroring Keith’s as his feet touched the hard floorboards. “Forever the optimist, I see,” he narrowed his eyes. The reminder of being in a public place briefly nudged the back of his mind, though he promptly ignored it. If Keith wanted to throw a tantrum, even after Lance had saved his ass from Plaxum mere moments earlier, he wasn’t going to play nice either. 

“You know what you’re doing right now right?” Lance taunted, but not waiting for an answer. “It’s a little irksome habit called _projecting._ So though your words may be true directed at _you_ —“

“Lance!” Hunk blurted. Without needing to see his friend behind him, Lance could sense the utter shock and horror painted in bright warning colors across Hunk’s face. It was too late a realization though, the damage was already done. 

Keith’s ire visibly dropped, his dark eyes clearing of the oncoming storm, leaving behind a busted engine and a crashed fighter pilot in its wake. Lance had caused that utterly destroyed look, a look lasting a nanosecond before disappearing as the storm had. 

_Fuck._

Pidge’s head had turned in Lance’s periphery, her almond-shaped eyes widening. He heard Hunk say a name—Shay’s—but couldn’t focus on the newcomer. His mind had favored the person who was leaving the scene, not entering it. 

Keith’s face had gone carefully blank, his hands now cast down to his sides. He had broken eye contact, looking somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t Lance’s face, but Lance couldn’t look away. Lance was a driver on a highway, slowing down to watch a car wreck with morbid curiosity. 

No, curiosity wasn’t what he was feeling. 

“Okay,” Keith’s eyes had snapped up to Lance’s once more, a sour smile coating his lips. “Nice one, Lance. Thanks again for _taking one for the team_.” He had mirrored Lance’s prior sentiments, twisting them into an ironic turn of events. Lance hadn’t helped anyone, if anything, he had ruined them. His decision to ‘help’ had just ended with him destroying Keith. 

“Hi everyone, is—what’s happening?” Shay’s gentle voice floated into the deadly silence between the two boys. She had noticed; by now Lance wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the bar was staring at them. 

“Nothing,” Keith replied swiftly, beginning to pass Lance. He kept his eyes down as he walked by. “I was just leaving.” Lance couldn’t look away.

“Keith.”

Lance didn’t know for sure if he had been the one to call after him, or if it had been someone else. It was hard telling anything when all he could see was his mistake he had made and what it had cost. 

Keith didn’t respond, he just kept walking. 

When he had reached the door, Hunk spoke up. “Lance… that was…”

“Harsh,” Pidge finished. “You were also a total ass.” 

Lance had turned to face the three of them, including Shay, confused but still looking cautious of the whole situation. He watched Hunk give Pidge a scolding look, to which Pidge shrugged, but she had a point. A very honest one, in fact. 

“You’re right,” he whispered, his eyes moving across their faces and to the bar. He was going to make this up, and though he had no idea how, he knew he had to do it now. His gaze swiftly landed on his drink, then Keith’s. 

“What’re you going to do?” Shay asked gently, peering at him from the side. 

Lance didn’t respond, he was too busy grabbing one of the drinks and running out the front door. He had left so fast he hadn’t even gotten to hear Pidge yell after him. 

“Lance! That’s illegal!” 

—

Keith was wandering. He originally wanted to head back to the set, but it was still early, and the idea of running into his manager again sent chills down his spine. Though bumping into Z wasn’t the worst part of the idea. 

_He’s still my manager._

The realization haunted him. Zarkon was still in his life, controlling a huge part of his career and telling him what to do and what not to do. It was a huge blaring sign he hadn’t noticed it at the time with all his panicking. Punching Z had been the best idea he had had in a while. It had given him freedom. For that short moment, he could speak his mind. Though he had made the mistake of telling Lance in that fleeting feeling of invincibility, putting all his cards on the table allowed him to finally breathe. 

Now he was starting to regret his choice. 

Trading in what he was sure was going to be the end of his career as well as the few friendships he had formed, all for a second of freedom, wasn’t all he’d made it out to be. Everything he had spent years trying to get away from: his past, all his bad memories, his sexuality, his entire life’s foundation was crumbling, and he doubted he could shrug off the rumble this time. 

“Keith!” 

The shout filled his mind, its tone sounding desperate to be heard. He couldn’t help but turn his head to look over his shoulder, but once he saw who it was, he didn’t stop walking. In fact, he was pretty sure he was speeding up. 

“ _Keith!_ ” 

Keith let out a deep sigh rumble out from the very center of his being; he was way too tired to deal with this, and he had just gotten up a few hours ago. People moved past him, their pace rushed and their gazes off somewhere else as they went about their day. He kept as close as he could to the larger groups, hoping to throw Lance off. 

“You forgot this.”

He turned to see Lance, out of breath and slightly flushed to his side, a beer in his outstretched hand. Keith let out a short, bitter laugh, but took the drink anyway. Not putting much thought into the action, he threw the drink back, finishing in one motion. As the last numbing drop of liquid touched his tongue, he tossed the bottle into a nearby empty trashcan. 

“And you forgot an apology.” Lance winced at his words, clearly a bit more honesty than he was hoping to deal with. Keith didn’t care. 

A hand was placed over Keith’s shoulder, Keith stopping in surprise at the sudden warmth. He turned to Lance, not willing but ready to argue more, just to be pulled into a shady side alley leading away from the main street chaos. 

“What the hell?” Keith yelped.

“Shut up and listen,” Lance ordered, his grip on Keith’s shoulder tightening. Whether or not the action was intentional, he couldn’t tell. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Off to a great start, then.” 

Irritation crept up on Lance, his frustration visible in his expressively contorted facial features. Keith wanted to give him a chance, he really did, but every single time he had it ended badly for him. 

His blue eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned his head back, exposing his neck. “Keith…” he sighed, his eyes opening to look down at Keith. The warmth emanating from Lance’s hand was beginning to get uncomfortable, which Lance took notice of too. He took away his hand, opting out to use it to run through his hair. 

“I’m sorry.”

Lance’s voice had cracked as he spoke, and in any other situation Keith would have laughed. The artless break in his words and the huge, genuine look in his big blue eyes shone through even in the lightless alley. Without the sun out, Keith was sure he wouldn’t have been able to see Lance at all. 

Keith’s first instinct was to joke back, ask him if he’d done the miraculous and gotten drunk in the five minutes he was gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was a fearing openness there, that Lance was choosing not to hide. Seeing something so scarily familiar to Keith reminded him of how he felt when he accidentally came out to Lance. He had put himself out there, and now, in return, so was Lance. 

He understood, but he couldn’t help the clawing force in the pit of his stomach, a parasite slowly eating away at him inside and out. 

“I’m so sorry, Keith. I was stupid, and annoyed, and I wasn’t thinking—“

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, interrupting Lance in the middle of his apology. Lance’s sentiments were important to Keith, no matter how much he denied it, but he needed to explain himself first. 

“What?” Lance’s face went blank. Out of all the reactions Lance probably expected from him, Keith had stunned him with the unexpected.

“When I said that,” he went on. “That ‘some of us are replaceable.’ I didn’t mean you. Or Pidge. Or Hunk.” He had to force the rest, the words clinging to his throat, desperately wanting to silence him. “I was talking about me.” 

He focused on Lance’s tan complexion, his features smoothing from confusion into understanding. His hand became motionless, frozen in the movement of combing through the brown wisps on his head. “What?” he repeated. “Why?” 

Keith grimaced at the uncomfortable turning of his stomach, a furnace turning on to heat up the frozen, built-up anger inside him. _Why?_ Keith mimicked in his head. The answer was obvious, especially when it was one so ordinary for him. It was the reason he lost his first, and then his second job before acting. It was why his first foster family gave him back so soon. It made him hate being in hiding, but unable to change.

“Because I’m _gay_ ,” he enunciated slowly, his insides beginning to boil. He heard Lance huff as if he had told a pitiful joke. It only furthered his frustration; he knew for a long time Lance would never understand. Lance shook his head, a small, disbelieving smile across his face. 

“Dude, I’m bi and I flaunt it constantly. You don’t see me fired.” 

Keith gave him a cold stare, of course he would think the two were synonymous. “Newsflash: being gay is different. Everyone can still accept you when you’re at least part straight, but when you’re homosexual you’re suddenly this disgusting creature that’s never going to be happy and is going to hell.” Lance looked more than ready to object, his eyebrows furrowing in anger, but Keith wasn’t done yet. The echoes of his manager’s cruel words coerced him to go on. 

“My fans aren’t going to accept me like they did you, or Shiro and Allura when they first became an item, or Pidge when she—“

“Bullshit,” aggression crashing into his words like the harsh waves in his blue eyes. “They can’t replace you, what the hell? You’re one of a kind!”

The strength of what Lance said isn’t what shook Keith into a breathless silence, it was how he said it like gospel truth. The words weren’t definite and kind like Hunk’s or Shiro’s, meant to make Keith feel better. These were forceful ideas that, though Keith wasn’t sure he believed, made him stop and think. That’s when he realized.

He couldn’t understand. 

He never knew what to expect from Lance, whether it be snide comments about his hairstyle or strange muttered compliments at the most inconvenient time. When he was first getting to know Lance, this only served to confuse him, like their dance during musical chairs so long ago. Now, it pissed him off. Lance thought this was okay, switching back and forth and toying with his emotions as he pleased. It wasn’t okay, and Keith was ready to explode to prove it. 

His exasperation peaked, boiling over inside him as he burst out yelling, “You can’t _choose_ when you want to be a fucking angel and a fucking asshole to me, Lance! Don’t you get the pain you throw at people with that kind of constant whiplash?” 

Lance was no longer moving. Keith’s eyes bore holes in Lance’s, and he prayed his levels of frustration would get through to him, or at the very least, a fraction. 

Keith’s voice demanded its own control, his chest heaving with weak laughter as he suddenly switched to a whisper. “I admitted to the last person I wanted to know that I was gay when I knew—I… thought—that you were going to make my life hell for it. _Then_ you suddenly want to help me a second after I tell you? And today—just now. That girl. You helped get her off my back so I didn’t have to explain I don’t swing that way, but you _can’t_ , just, casually sling your arm over someone and treat them like—“ Keith didn’t know what he wanted to say, “—like—“ boyfriend? No. “like you actually _care_!”

Keith paused to breathe, his lungs forcing air in and out, nearly choking on the tightened bundles of confusion and frustration and sadness. He gave another weak, angry laugh, peering down at the floor, “Especially when you don’t.” 

“Wh—? Keith… I do—“

Keith’s gaze snapped up innately, unable to control his harsh gaze. “Then what was that back at the bar? Huh? Sure you apologized, but it doesn’t deny what you did.” 

He watches as a pained look crossed his face, disappearing faster than a single bolt of lightning. Lance awkwardly switched his gaze to the ground, and Keith couldn’t help but snort quietly. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Keith didn’t have a reason to stay any longer, so he turned to go. Seeing as Lance didn’t call after him to stop, he took a step forward, then another step. Eventually he was walking out of the dark alley, only feet away from the main street. Then he felt the familiar warmth of Lance’s hands, not on one of his shoulders, but both of them, flipping him around so fast he felt like a half-cooked pancake. He didn’t get the chance to talk before he was smacked in the face with the look in his eyes. 

His improbable blue eyes. 

Guilt. Over-flowing dark pools of guilt that still managed to glitter with pain in the dim street lights. He was completely unmasked, a scene so halting that it seemed to give off its own commanding silence, blocking out all else so only it could be perceived. Keith knew before Lance spoke, seeing before hearing the truth. 

“Keith, I—yes. I fucked up. Really, really bad. I know it was totally uncalled for, god, I know, but I…” he hesitated, but didn’t back down, his gaze unwavering. “I argue because I care.” It was then that Lance laughed, a disheartening, choked sound. “I mean, I grew up in a sibling war zone. I had to fight for everything. It’s how my family shows love: teasing and the occasional bad joke… but I know that I crossed the line, I let you down, and I was a defensive ass for no reason.” He took a pause and gently squeezed Keith’s shoulders, trying to get across his point. “I’m going to get better. For you—and for everyone else too—so you know I mean this, and that my apology isn’t total bs.” 

In spite of everything, Keith found the ends of his lips curving up gently into a small smile. Admittedly the turmoil clinging to the inside of his gut remained, an infinite fuel ready to burn again with a touch, he couldn’t help himself. His lungs caught a brief break, the slicing winds calming and allowing him to exhale in relief. There was still the aftermath to deal with, and more storms to come, but for now, he could let go. 

“I forgive you,” he told him guilelessly. 

“Wait, what?” Lance blinked at him. “I said you don’t have to, because I still need to prove it.”

“And _I_ said I forgive you. You may do stupid shit an astounding percent of the time, you’re not an asshole,” he paused, giving Lance a look. “Plus I could tell you meant it.” He was greeted with silence from Lance, a baffled expression that somehow managed to make his features appear calmer. 

Keith couldn’t handle the look, it was filled with appreciation and awe and suddenly Keith needed to change the subject. “By the way, you said you arguing with me isn’t because you hate me, but because you care about me?” he goaded, his tone now teasing. 

The sly comment was a slap in the face to Lance, whose mouth opened noiselessly before he turned his head. If Keith’s eyes saw right—which he was pretty sure they were, even in the dim alley—Lance was embarrassed. His smile morphed into a smirk. 

“Oh—shut up,” Lance snapped, but there was no bite to it. 

There was a tranquil calm between them, an occurrence that rarely, if ever, happened when Keith was with others. When he was alone he had an easier time finding peace; he didn’t need to worry about impressions or how he acted. The silence was never awkward when he was alone. He was able to just embrace himself. 

“You wanna start heading back to the bar?” Lance broke the quiet, still looking away as he shuffled on his feet. “The others are probably wondering if we killed each other yet.” 

“Sure,” he replied, his smirk returning to its original small smile. 

After another brief pause, the two returned to the streets. The day was turning to be hot, no clouds to weaken the sun’s beating rays. The number of people had grown in the short period of them leaving, and the smell of car exhaust and sound of chatter and doors opening and closing surrounded them. Leaving the small alley was to enter an entire, larger world. 

The duo walked in sync along the sidewalk, making small talk when he heard Lance’s phone ring. He knew it was Lance’s without doubt, nobody still had Britney Spears as a ringtone. Hell, Keith didn’t even have a ringtone, his phone was always muted. Lance unconsciously bit his lip with worry as he gazed down at his phone, and before Keith could think about asking, he picked up. 

“¿Sí, quétal?” Lance questioned, and Keith knew he wasn’t going to understand. “¿Emergencia?” Keith didn’t know much spanish, but he got that one. Lance paused again. He couldn’t hear over the talking of the crowds, but could tell the person on the other line was talking. “Va voy ahora mismo. Nos vemos.” Hanging up, Lance pocketed the phone, wearing an alarming expression. 

“Lance?”

He said something under his breath, and though Keith couldn’t hear it, he guessed it was a curse. “Family emergency. I need to get home but I don’t have my car—Hunk drove me over today. _Shit._ ” 

“Lance, freaking out isn’t helping. Just breathe.”

He turned and gave Keith an incredulous look. “Well thanks, mullet. I’m doing so much better now,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Passerby began to walk around them, noticing that something was going on, but not stopping to find out what that something was. 

“Okay,” Keith began, internally reminding himself to relax in situations like this. “I can give you a ride and we’ll get there fast. My bike’s back at the set’s parking lot and that’s just a block down from here.”

“A _bike?_ ” Lance screeched. “Keith, are you kidding—“

“Motorbike, dumbass!” 

Now people were really looking at the two of them, and Keith couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He reached out and grabbed Lance’s wrist, pulling him along the street as he sped through clusters of strangers and back towards the set. 

“Okay? Yes?” he asked, waiting for confirmation. 

“Oh, uh,” Lance picked up his slack, rushing alongside Keith, “yeah.” 

“Good.”

They stopped at the first and only stop light before they could cross the intersection and reach the parking lot. The thought of being recognized flicked at his mind without warning, and he let go of Lance’s wrist, looking at the red light impatiently. 

“Keith?” Lance spoke up just as the light turned green, the two crossing in swift tandem. Keith only hummed questioningly in reply. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, #neverforgetvarkon2k17
> 
> but also, if you have the time, please feel free to drop me a comment below. i honestly don't care about kudos, i just want to hear what you guys think. i respond to everyone, so don't hesitate to talk to me ^_^


	6. the floor is lava

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what have i done
> 
> and, as promised, updates are happening more often, enjoy :)

Lance didn’t realize he had started shaking until Keith had pointed it out while they entered the lot. His body was disconnected from his mind, his thoughts still caught on the brusque phone call. It had been his older cousin, Riel. Lance had moved out a while ago after getting the role of Blue, able to not only support himself but also his family. Despite this, he visited regularly, and not just because his mama would chastise him otherwise. 

His family knew he worked the majority of the time. Thus they only checked up on him on weekends and called after his shift had ended. So for Riel to call him, and with such hurried and curt language, it terrified him. 

“Lance?”

His gaze snapped up to Keith’s, who had now stopped before his vehicle. If Lance hadn’t been so out of it, he would have whistled. _Hell, I’d probably catcall the thing._ The worn leather seat and overall rustic impression that gave it an unfamiliar yet appealing aura. 

“I’m still working on her exterior, but she runs, and she runs fast,” he promised. 

Lance let his eyes travel up to meet Keith’s. The boy had been peering at him, a blatant worried look stained across his pale face. Lance reasoned the shock was getting to him; Keith was never so expressive. The sparse occurrence when he did, though, was when Lance pushed him to the edge of self-control. 

“Do you think you can give me directions?” Keith prodded gently. Lance couldn’t distinguish the flicker of change, but he was sure he recognized a softening in his dark eyes. Still, Keith had turned away too soon for him to get a good look. 

“I, uh, yeah.” 

Keith nodded off to the side, kicking up the stand. Lance always had a sneaking suspicion that Keith would be the one to own a motorcycle, but never got the chance to ask. He had wanted to ride one, but knew his mama would give him hell if he hurt himself. When he imagined his first time on a motorbike, this not only refused to give it justice, but totally crushed the possibility of it existing. 

“Here,” Keith’s conciliating tone brought him back to the mangling reality before him. Keith was handing Lance a helmet—the only helmet, he realized. 

“Wait…” he started, confused, “shouldn’t you take it? You’re the driver.” 

Keith shook his head and pushed the helmet further forward, a sense of muted urgency in the action. “Don’t need it. I grew up riding without one anyway. Plus—no offense—but you’re more likely to fall off than me, so…” 

Lance would have retaliated if he hadn’t all felt so _wrong._ He didn’t want to distract himself from the pressing ambiguity of the situation, but he also didn’t want to face it. He wanted to run home and know everything was okay, that everyone was fine, but simultaneously curl up into a ball until the storming panic inside him passed. 

“Hey,” Lance’s attention was unintentionally pulled to Keith’s again. If it was possible to feel any worse, his gut tightened at zoning out so much right now. If Lance wanted Keith’s help, he needed to concentrate. 

“Sorry, I—“

“Whatever’s happening, it’s going to be okay.” Though the words had no basis whatsoever, Lance found himself clinging to each soothing syllable. “We’re gonna get there in no time, and then you can be there for your family. Okay?” 

His lungs drew in a deep breath in comparison to the past minute’s short, pained breaths. He nodded slowly, “Okay.” 

Keith hadn’t been lying when he said she rode high-speed. Lance hesitated when he sat behind Keith, Keith starting the engine as she rumbled underneath them. From pure movie-knowledge, Lance knew full well where his hands should go, but was unwilling to hold on. The thought of wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist recalled the fresh, cutting memory of them back at the bar. He cringed, thankful for the helmet covering his expression. 

“Lance,” Keith spoke loudly over the engine’s roars. “I’m just as thrilled as you are, but you really need to hold on.” 

Lance nodded, then realized Keith couldn’t see him. He doubted Keith would be able to hear him with the helmet, let alone the engine. His family trumped his diffidence, and to show confirmation Keith would be able to recognize, wrapped his arms around the boy in front of him. 

He had no warning from Keith, who gassed it just as Lance’s hands had gotten comfortable. The sudden acceleration coerced Lance to pull himself closer. For a few seconds there he had nearly fallen off, his breathing become ragged once more as he pushed the side of his head into Keith’s back. 

They easily swerved between the beginnings of rush hours, passing cars and the sparse bicycle at a baffling pace. At the occasional stop, Keith would check up on Lance, asking in what he considered to be a yell how Lance was doing. The first time Lance had no idea how to respond, his voice too unreliable to use. A simplistic idea struck, and he gradually removed a hand from Keith’s waist and brought up a thumbs-up for Keith to see. 

As the light cast over them morphed from red to green, Keith’s hand caught his one straggling one, and brought it back to his waist. Keith’s hands had been cold, the brisk wind not doing much to help—as well as the stupid fingerless gloves, Lance was sure to acknowledge. 

Then again, Lance’s own hand had been warm, but not of his own volition. The shock was undeniably making his heart pump fast, but his skin paled. The heat wasn’t coming from him, it was coming from Keith. Specifically, his snug waist. A tempered warmth was pooling out from Keith’s abdomen slowly into Lance’s freezing arms and hands. He nearly choked at noticing how comforting Keith could be—even when he wasn’t even doing anything at all.

_That’s hardly fair…_

Keith hadn’t lied when he said they would get there fast. He took Lance’s rushed, sloppy directions based on corner shops, a bakery, and a few street names thrown in the jumble with it. There was awe to be met at seeing how Keith was in desperate situations. He wondered if Keith had developed the skill from his known foster brother, Shiro, or if he had grown the ability on his own. 

Lance was standing on the pavement with Keith, staring at his two-story, flat-roofed home in unbridled apprehension. He heard the desperate cries of his legs, urging him forward, but couldn’t muster the strength. No one noticed their arrival. None of his family was running outside, pushing him inside. There wasn’t bawling or yelling like he expected, but silence. It was more than unnerving; in all his years of living there, it was never quiet. 

Keith shifted beside him, prompting Lance to look over to see Keith’s hand. It was level in the space between each of their shoulders, palm up. A small, silent offering situated before Lance that he didn’t realize he needed until now. 

After being around Keith for so long, he began to pick up to little habits and ticks that made the mullet work. At first it was the small mannerisms, like how the closer distance he placed between himself and others expressed how at ease he was with them. Or how he pulled at his gloves without realizing it when he was nervous. Without even meaning to, the longer he knew him, the more unintentional quirks Lance found hiding in the cracks. 

So when Keith put his hand up for Lance to take ahold of, Lance not only saw the action, but the effort put behind it. 

Lance shakily lifted his own hand, awkwardly placing it on top of Keith’s before gradually intwining their fingers. Lifting his eyes back up to Keith, he nodded and sent him a weak smile. Keith returned the sentiment. It had taken another long moment before Lance took his first step forward, but Keith remained patient beside him. As they reached the door, he rose his free hand to the door and knocked. 

The door swung open in three winks and Riel stood in the doorway. His cousin’s wide, amber eyes landed on Lance instantly, and without hesitation, pulled him in with rough hands. He was instantly immersed in chaos. There were children’s shouts and flashes of color behind Riel, and though he couldn’t see much behind his cousin’s broad figure, he knew he was in for hell. 

Lance refused to release Keith’s hand as he entered the house—his grip was mechanically holding on like Keith’s hand was his lifeline. 

_That’s because he is,_ a muted part of him said, but he pushed the voice down without another thought. He was in shock, he couldn’t expect himself to think straight. 

“Riel,” Lance asked, his voice strained. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry—Estrella! Don’t hit your brother!—I just really needed someone to watch the kids,” his cousin replied, running a dark hand through his unkempt hair. 

“I—“ Lance choked. “I’m sorry?” 

“Mama and papa are working, tía went to visit Mia a few hours ago, and the kids were let off early,” Riel explained while waving frantic hands. He hurried back towards the open living room, where he began yelling off at the twins for scaring the baby. 

“R-Riel, I thought…?” he muttered. 

He turned back around, his cousin’s deep brown eyes landing on Keith as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, who’s this?” he asked with a look of genuine curiosity. To the side of him, Lance watched Keith totally disregard his cousin. Keith’s confused look was pointedly at him. 

Riel’s eyes went up and down Keith, his gaze catching on their joined hands. His flat look instantly took upon a devious glint, and he grinned at the two. “Ah, your boyfriend?” 

Lance was aware of his previous thoughts. 

Very aware.

He _had_ needed Keith’s support at the time, yes. 

But now the warmth in Keith’s hand scorched his own, and he reeled away so fast his back hit the wall. Keith had a similar reaction, Lance’s sudden recoil making him stumble a few steps back. Lance wasn’t sure which he noticed first: Riel’s gruff laughter, the heat rushing to his own face, or the sudden throbbing sensation in his head. 

“No digas eso, gilipollas!” Lance yelled back, attracting the attention of some of his siblings. “Keith no es mi novio!” 

“Keith,” Riel echoed, his laughter fading, soon replaced with a soft smile. He looked to the new boy with a warm look in his eyes. _That’s not a good sign._ “Welcome to the family, Keith.” Lance compelled himself to look at the mullet, his curiosity pulling him against his inhibitions. His dark eyes were blown wide, whether he was smacked silent with horror or surprise, Lance had no idea. 

“Lance!” 

He turned in time with his little sister’s jump, not giving him enough time to raise his hands and catch her. Within the second of her wrapping her grabby hands around his waist, he was on the floor. Estrella wore a huge smile as she clung to his clothes, yelling happily on top of him. 

“Aiden and Kayden keep switching places during tag and I can’t tell who’s it!” she whined, rolling over onto the floor beside him. “It’s so _unfair_!” 

“Well, coz, don’t lose any of them or else mama will kill you,” Riel grinned. “Speaking of… ¿Debería decirle a mamá acerca de tu novio?”

Estrella gasped loudly, her young blue eyes glancing down at Lance. He was still sprawled along the floor; if mama was home, she would’ve smacked him for collecting dirt off the floor. “¿Novio?” she said in a conspiring voice. 

“No, stop! He isn’t—“

His cousin snorted, “Los cojones. Voy a mostrar las fotos.”

_Oh god, I’m so screwed._

Estrella gasped again, this time sounding offended. “No cursing! Mama said it’s bad!” 

“Uh…” Keith tentatively interrupted, his face paling as everyone turned to him. Not backing down from the attention, he instead looked to Lance. “Should I go…?”

“Nah,” Riel answered for him. “As a part of the family you have to help take care of the kids too.” Before either could retaliate, Riel had maneuvered around them and opened the door. “Be back soon! Probably.” 

“ _Riel!_ ” Lance shouted, the now closed door shutting out his words. He let out a heavy sigh, his lungs deflating as he dropped his head to the floor. _Bad idea,_ his mind screamed out, reminding him of his pain. 

“Well, at least nothing bad happened?” Keith said, his voice attempting a comforting tone, but coming out as a question. 

Lance turned his head to the side. “Dude, you have no idea,” he replied. Estrella seemed finished bothering him, and mimicked Lance, looking at Keith as well. Though her small back was turned to Lance, he witnessed her moment-freezing epiphany. 

“Red!” she exclaimed, rushing over to him. 

Keith managed to look even more confused, his dark eyes clouding over as his thick brows furrowed together. Then, it clicked. His face brightened with realization, though he didn’t seem ecstatic at him being recognized. 

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckled nervously, Keith’s attention on her now. 

“Can I hug you?” Estrella asked suddenly, bobbing excitedly up and down on with her bare feet. Her straight locks were pulled back in a messy bun, which was coming undone with the sudden frantic motions. 

“I—what?” Keith blanched. 

“It’s when you wrap your arms around someone else!” she explained. She flashes her bright teeth, one of her front ones prominently missing. “I’ve always wanted to hug a hero!” 

Her last words sparked a reaction from Keith, starting a red-hot fire in his cheeks. Lance now knew why Keith was the red paladin; the color suited him. Keith opened his mouth to speak, but had to visibly take in a breath before he could. “O-Okay, but… I didn’t—“

With permission, Lance’s little sister always acted immediately, and she acted with passion. So when Estrella had wrapped her small arms around Keith’s waist, squeezing hard, he wasn’t surprised to hear Keith let out a little gasp. 

“Thank you, uh,” he looked desperately to Lance, then back down to her, “but I—it’s just acting.”

“No!” she shouted into Keith, her face pressed up against him. “I meant for saving big bro!”

_Oh._

He had never seen Keith’s eyes snap to him so fast. Palpable confusion bubbled with shock rose in his shifting expression, and Lance couldn’t look away. He inattentively caught himself staring at Keith for the past few minutes, but he couldn’t concentrate on that now, he had to deal with this incoming disaster. He needed an explanation, and fast. 

“She means on our show—“ he rushed out, tumbling over his own words as he tried to stand, “—the-that one scene.” 

“What?” Lance’s excuse only furthered his confusion. “What scene…”

A loud crash was Lance’s saving grace, and he was more than happy to check out the commotion. He moved fast, quickly entering the kitchen. The twins, Aiden and Kayden, were spread on the floor alongside the aftermath of fallen pots and pans. A few feet away stood Paz, who face palmed with one hand and held two-year-old Amie in the other. 

“What’re you guys doing?” 

“Lance!” the twins shouted in unison, one terrified and the other ecstatic. Meanwhile, Paz smiled, walking over to their older brother. 

“Who’s this?” Paz asked kindly, their soft brown eyes wandering over the newcomer. 

“Es su novio,” Estrella replied with glee, still clinging to Keith. 

“Oh _my_ —stop saying that!” Lance snapped, then sighed in exasperation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “See this is why I don’t bring anyone over.” 

Paz shuffled a bit, rearranging Amie into a more comfortable position in her arms. “Why does she think so?” they questioned, giving their brother a dubious stare. Lance felt himself flush. He shifted his attention back to the twins, who remained on the tiled floor.

 _I’m never living this down, am I?_

“What’re you guys doing?” he repeated to the twins, thankful his voice didn’t betray him.

They scrambled to their feet, both boys looking at one another hesitantly before answering. Aiden was the one to speak, “Cooking.” 

Lance sighed again, his hand moving up to run through his hair. “All right, get out, I’ll make something.” The kids left the kitchen fast, even Estrella, who had detached herself from Keith and ran after her siblings. They had been more than willing to leave Lance to cook for them. 

Ever since his mama found out Lance was the most naturally ept at cooking, he was the first picked to help make dinner. At first he had hated it; when he pridefully brought up cooking in middle school, he was returned with teasing and ridicule. It was just later night when his mama called him into the kitchen again, and he threw a nasty fit, yelling and throwing whatever he could find around him. He went on until she caught his hands midway picking up an empty cup. He broke down in tears, spilling his whole day of mockery to her. 

She had simply smiled and cupped his cheeks, then pulled thirteen-year-old Lance into her encompassing, warm arms. He had sniffled in her apron as she spoke above him, her chest moving with each word. “Lance, my sweet baby boy, they laugh because they don’t understand. They don’t have parents who teach them to accept others or how to love,” she told him quietly, the warmth exhale of her breath tickling his stray strands of hair. The comforting feeling of her was abruptly interrupted when he felt a drop of cold on his nape. 

Bringing up his head from the crook of his mama’s neck and stepping back, his wet eyes looked up at her. She was crying. He had made his mama cry. The realization made him cry even more, yet she went on, unaffected by Lance’s huge revelation. “But if you don’t want to cook with me anymore, that’s okay.”

He couldn’t stop crying, no matter how long she tried calming him. He couldn’t remember going to bed that night, and Mia had told him she heard him cry even after he was put to bed. The next day Lance had woken up an hour before anyone else. It was a Saturday, the one day everyone was home. His papa didn’t work, his mama worked in the afternoon, as well as his tía. 

It took him twenty minutes to and from the bodega, and he spent half an hour mostly composed of trial and error, until he finally accomplished his goal. Setting the table the last ten minutes and waking everyone up, he brought his family downstairs to show them what he had made: breakfast. It was simple, just poorly shaped pancakes, eggs, and bacon, something his mama made but had not yet taught him. 

That was how he made his mama cry for the second time.

The only difference was her huge smile. 

He cooked with her every day after that, learning new recipes for fun in between studying and part-time jobs. Even after his career took off, he sometimes returned home to cook with her. It was how he pulled himself out of his really low lows. 

“Lance?” 

He was violently thrust back into reality, his head snapping away from the running sink and piles of fallen kitchen supplies. Keith’s head was tilted ever so slightly to the left, reminding Lance of a confused puppy. “Huh?” he asked, blinking himself fully into existence. 

“Are you okay?” 

The edge of his mouth twitched up, and he had to fight the urge to smile. “Yeah, just thinking,” he replied. Getting to work, he maneuvered to the center of the mess, and began picking up everything that fallen to the floor to place in the sink. Keith joined him with ease, offering his hand. Lance flinched. 

“Here, hand me that,” he told Lance, flicking his hand up. 

Lance nodded, thought slightly terrified, and complied. Keith slipped his hand on the other handle, lifting it and placing it in the sink. Lance understood and was consequently thankful for the help. He smiled at Keith before returning to his task, the two sliding into a smooth act of teamwork. They finished in half the time it would have taken Lance by himself, and he ran his hands under the hot tap water. 

“I knew you had a big family but holy crap,” said Keith under his breath. 

Lance let out an easy laugh. “Those are just my siblings—and not even all of them. Mia isn’t home,” he explained, remembering Riel’s words, “she’s working.” 

“You need me to help with anything else?” Keith asked, leaning timidly against the counter. 

Lance was ready to decline as another noise—coming from the living room this time—crashed through their conversation. They both turned, looking at the closed kitchen door and seeing nothing but their imaginations. 

“Watch them and just—make sure they don’t break anything,” Lance replied, moving to open an upper cabinet and turning on the stove. Keith didn’t respond, giving him a quick glance before going out into the living room.

—

Keith’s first hour in the McClain household was the most intense workout he had gotten in _years_ , and he went to the gym a few times a week. The moment his feet stepped out of the kitchen, he had accidentally threw himself into a war zone. A familiar little girl had instantaneously singled in on him and had grasped onto his midsection for dear life, one of the twins taunting her from across the room. The oldest one held a baby, lying across a beaten couch, using a free hand to complete a sudoku puzzle. 

Though he had just met the children, a part of him set off an alarm. Though the air was filled with laughter and the occasional scream, there was something off. He had barely stepped in the room and he could feel it, but couldn’t see it quite yet. 

“Hey, uh—“ Keith started, looking down at the small, messy-bun girl only to realize he didn’t know her name. She smiled up at him in return. 

“Estrella! It means star,” she told him. 

“Is someone missing?” 

“Hmm?” the girl hummed, detaching herself and adopting a thoughtful expression. He wasn’t even aware she could appear so serious. She looked around, her fingers stroking her chin until she gasped, flinging her hand in the air. “Oh! Yes, Kayden! He ran off a while ago.” 

Keith wanted to explain he didn’t know who that was, but seeing how excited she was with her realization, it made him hold his tongue. He nodded, going into a crouch so he could look her level in the eye. 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Estrella,” he said, making sure she knew he was being honest. She nodded before bolting off, a boy around her age soon chasing after her. Then it hit him. The other boy—his twin—was missing. 

Keith began searching, wandering around the room. His mind tempted him to ask the girl on the couch, but he wasn’t here to bother anyone. The room, other than the other children, was relatively empty. The warm peach-colored walls hung a few portraits and frames of family pictures, as well as a small television placed on one of the rooms tables. 

Concluding Kayden wasn’t in this room, he looked to the other three doors. One lead into the kitchen he had just came from, another left wide-open and going into a long hallway, and the last a glass screen door leading into the backyard. The latter being slid slightly ajar, roughly the size of one of the smaller children. Reckoning he could come back if his gut was wrong, he slid the door the rest of the way and passed through. 

The sun’s light beat down on him, and he squinted to see. There was grass and a makeshift swing set, a large oak a few feet away. There was a large tire tied to the tree’s many branches, held in place by thick rope going up into the trees green leaves. It cast shade over a quarter of the entire yard, but the sheer vastness of the tree didn’t catch his attention. 

Pressed up against the oak bark was a small boy, curled up in fetal position. He didn’t need to see his face to know the kid was crying; he recognized that look without a doubt. Moving across the grass slowly, Keith halted himself just a foot away from him. 

“Kayden?” 

The boy sniffed loudly, shifting his head up just enough to peer through the distance between his knees and dark bangs. When he responded, his voice was hoarse and cut short. “Leave me alone, Red!” he whined, pushing himself closer to the tree. 

_That’s what I’m going to be called from now on. Great. Might as well add ‘rum’ to the end of that nickname while they’re at it._

Keith moved in a bit closer, letting himself fall into a criss-cross position on the damp grass. He adopted what he hoped was a less harsh expression, and watched Kayden closely. “Why’re you crying?” Another sniffle, followed by a choked cry. 

“I said we played tag for too long and I wanted to play something else, but they ignored me!” Kayden spat, his teary eyes a dance between ferocity and sadness. Keith would’ve chuckled, but the sincerity of the boy’s distress was more pressing than his urge to crack a laugh. 

“Who?” 

“Aiden and Estrella! I just wanted to play my favorite game…” he whimpered quietly. Keith scooted closer, giving Kayden a small smile as he looked up. 

“You want to play your favorite game with me, then?” offered Keith, maintaining a gentle tone. The boy’s tears seemed to dry with Keith’s words, and he broke out into a huge grin. Pressing his legs down to join Keith in a criss-cross position, he nodded fervently at the older boy. “Okay, how do we play?” 

Kayden sprung into conversation, completely engulfed by his own excitement. It made Keith’s smile widen; he missed being happy so easily. “First, one player gets to call it,” he explained, though Keith couldn’t tell what _it_ was. “Then everyone else has to get off the ground before the one who called it counts down from five.” 

“Okay,” Keith nodded, “but what does the speaker call?” 

Kayden’s grin seemed to grow even wider with each following word slowly enunciated, “The floor is lava.” Keith wanted to keep up the encouraging smile, but his swift change in tone startled him. He didn’t quite get it until the boy went on, his grin unwavering, “Five…” 

Keith’s eyes widened, and let out a curse before he could stop himself, “ _Oh,_ shit!” Kayden just laughed in response. Internally wincing, Keith flung himself to his feet, his eyes scanning the yard for someplace practical. He nearly cursed again coming to understand a backyard was the absolute worse place to engage in this kind of game. 

“Four,” he giggled, watching Keith flail in amusement.

He took a few steps forward, nearing the edge of the oak’s shadow, just to turn around in a panic. Though he acknowledged it was a silly game, he couldn’t deter his competitive edge. He was going to win this. He had to. 

“Three!”

Keith looked to the swing sets, but figured they were too far. He swept the yard again, then froze at what he had been missing. 

“Two!”

On the opposite side of the oak from where Kayden was sitting was the improvised tire swing. Praying to whoever would hear him, he sprinted the few feet over to the tire and jumped, barely grabbing onto the rough rope. The tire moved dangerously forward, taking Keith’s feet with him. He pulled himself closer as he felt the pressure of his weight affect the swing, his precarious position not helping. Though logic reckoned it would hold him, his mind began to get worked up over the idea of breaking it. The cost wouldn’t be the problem, he just hoped he wasn’t accidentally breaking something of sentimental value.

“One!” Kayden said, skipping over to Keith. “Wow you’re not totally bad at this game like the other adults!” The idea of being an adult, even years in, still felt off to Keith. He didn’t see himself nor his friends as adults. Except probably Shiro. 

“What about Lance?” 

Kayden grinned again, “The first time we played he tried to run and fell on the floor. Aiden and I stood on him, but I fell off because I couldn’t stop laughing.” The boy giggled at the memory as Keith cautiously stepped down from the swing. He found himself smiling along with him.

“Kay!” 

A voice called out across the yard, and Keith’s eyes were drawn to the open screen door. Not only had the rest of the children walked out to watch without him realizing it, Lance was standing there too. He wondered how long they had been standing there. 

They all had various expressions with different degrees of shocked amusement, but Keith found Lance’s expression the most funny. He looked like a koi fish, his mouth opening and closing at erratic intervals. Beside him, the eldest leaned over and whispered into Lance’s ear. Lance snapped out of his staring trance to glare, then walked out onto the grass. The others followed behind him, reminding Keith of little ducklings. 

“How the heck,” Lance started, noticeably watchful of his language, “did you pull that off?” Keith shrugged with indifference, it hadn’t been a momentous occasion. 

“You act like the floor was seriously lava,” he goaded. 

Immediately, all the children froze. Without another word, like flightless birds, they all flocked away and split up to run in opposing directions. Keith understood instantly, learning from his first experience with Kayden. He knew what his job was, grin capturing his face while confusion remained on Lance’s. 

“Five,” he said in a loud, smooth tone. Lance gave him a strange look before looking around at the running kids, still not catching on. 

“Four.” He saw the moment when light struck Lance’s blue eyes underneath the oak’s shade. His head swung back to gawk at Keith. He felt the beginnings of laughter itch the back of his throat, his smirk turning triumphant. 

He lowered his voice so only Lance could hear, letting his smugness seep into his next word, “Three.” Lance’s shock seethed into a deep, understanding glare, his eyes flicking upward as Keith went on. Looking back at Keith, Lance’s grimace fell into its own grin, one that Keith couldn’t help but stare at.

Keith opened his mouth to count down again, raising a brow, when he found Lance’s hand pushing against his chest. About to object, his jaw suddenly clamped shut as his back hit the trunk of the tree. He let out a small gasp, which only made Lance’s smirk grow. 

“T-two,” shot out, wanting to smack himself at his own stutter. 

He expected Lance to move, somehow thinking he’d try bolting to Keith’s personal choice: the tire. Somehow, just by the devious fire in Lance’s gaze challenged him, Keith assumed Lance wasn’t planning on going anywhere. As luck would have it, Lance, in fact, leaned forward. 

Keith felt his breath catch on nothing. His heat beat faster, trying to warn Keith of something he couldn’t grasp. It urged him to move in desperation, the direction it demanded him to go too vague to follow. Lance drew up his free hand above Keith, resting it high above his head. The boy just kept leaning in, not stopping until his entire being was just inches away from Keith. He had to do something, everything was too slow yet too fast for him to do anything. 

He panicked, “On—“

Keith was cut off by shock, the sudden movement from Lance silencing him midway through his countdown. Lance had flung his previously raised hand up, grabbing onto one of the few low branches of the tree. Within milliseconds he had jumped, pulled himself up right in front of Keith, and climbed onto the branch. 

“I win.” 

Keith faltered, nearly tripping over as he his chin turned up and he looked at Lance. Softened light filtered through the glowing leaves above the both of them, a strange familiar outline of gold surrounding Lance’s half-hidden figure. He was hit with the night he first told Lance. It had just been yesterday when he first came out—to Lance, of all people. He had walked into their ‘club’ and had seen him doused in a similar light, but it didn’t capture him as beautifully as it did now. 

The pleased upward curves of Lance’s lips and sparkling sky blue eyes were encompassed by his sun-kissed skin, his short, flowing brown hair turned golden under the light. He was looking down at Keith and chuckling, he realized, Lance’s laughter flowing unusually soft and gentle from his lips. 

When the kids broke the silence with their yells of frustrated anger, Keith felt himself step backwards. The twins yelled on about something called ‘rules,’ Estrella’ expressive shouting “the tree’s off limits,” and the older one’s disappointed head shake surrounded Lance. Keith took six more step back, until his back touched the sun, his hand raising over his chest. Lance stuck his tongue out at the children below, only earning himself more shouts. 

“You’re the only one tall enough to climb that fast!” argued Estrella. 

“Plus it’s cheating!” a twin shouted. 

Keith would have joined in to call Lance out on that underhanded move, but he was stuck to the spot. With his hand covering the same place Lance’s had, he attempted to calm his spasmodic breathing. No matter how hard he concentrated on soothing himself, one thing didn’t change. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so ready to add that new tag, haha
> 
> a belated (and hopefully well-known) disclaimer, but google translate is pretty shit. if you tried using it, some lines don’t really come out right… ~~e.g. es su novio~~ _cough_ just saying.


	7. crushed slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, just wanted to thank u for reading so far and hope you’re enjoying it!   
> also, if u have the time, there’s a small announcement at the end of this chapter i’d rly appreciate u checking out ^ ^

Lance let his smug delight overtake him, coaxing his siblings—along with a reluctant Keith—to continue playing their little game. They played a few rounds outside, Paz sitting it out after the third game to watch over Amie. It didn’t take long before there were no more new spots to sprint to, leading everyone to return to the same spot over and over again. Though the twins as well as Estrella didn’t mind the monotony, Lance’s interest began to wane. With a quick suggestion from Lance to play the next round inside, they all returned to the living room. 

As he passed through the sliding glass door, he froze in his tracks. The cool air conditioned breeze from inside hadn’t stopped him, rather, a much bigger, stomach churning realization.

“ _The food,_ ” Lance muttered with widening eyes, gaping at the open kitchen doorway. “Shit!” 

He heard his siblings’ gasps behind him as his feet rushed him to the kitchen. Albeit, they each had varying reasons, Estrella censorious of his cursing, and the twins horrified at the idea of burnt food, they joined Lance nevertheless. Once again, he froze upon entering. 

“Lance, what have I told you about cursing?” 

In front of the stove stood the small but intimidating woman who had raised him. Her back was to him, one hand on her hip and the other occupied with tongs. Behind him, the twins sighed in relief, the food had been saved. Lance’s response tumbled from his mouth. The deep-rooted childhood fear of being smacked upside the head for cursing pushed him to speak fast. 

“Lo siento, mamá.” 

A small sigh let his mama’s lips. There had been no time to introduce Keith; she had noticed him as she turned around, her expression stiffening slightly. Lance didn’t need to see Keith’s body language to prove he was tense. Despite Keith’s unfazed aura, the strain in his voice to keep calm had grown more apparent to Lance with time. 

“Hello, Mrs. McClain,” he put out his hand for her to shake. Lance snorted, earning a glare from his mama. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you.” 

Keith’s formalities were tossed out the window as she came over to him, tongs still in hand, pulling him into a tight hug. An easy smirk appeared on Lance’s face as he watched Keith’s dark eyes widen, pink dusting his paling cheeks. He looked so panicked Lance’s self-control struggled to hold in a laugh. Though quiet, Lance could hear the other boy gasp. It had taken him a moment to return the gesture, his expression relaxing as he did. It was a light hug on Keith’s end, who barely attempted a hold on the foot-shorter woman. 

Mama spoke as she pulled away, looking at Keith with a welcoming smile. “It’s my pleasure, Keith,” she told him with an enthusiastic nod. “And feel free to call me mama, Mrs. McClain is much too formal.” With another quick glance at the boy, she retreated to the stove. 

The children, pleased with the turnout, went on their way. Estrella stepped in to join mama cook, while Paz set Amie down in her high chair to set up the table. Kayden and Aiden had disappeared down the hall once their food’s safety was confirmed. This left Lance in the kitchen’s doorway, giving Keith an amused look.

“What?” grunted Keith, the pink in his cheeks fading. Lance’s grin just grew in response. “Stop that!” he growled quietly, stepping towards him as means of intimidation. Lance was having too much fun watching Keith get flustered, and with a hug of all things. He couldn’t step away, so he stepped forward, entering what he now knew to be Keith’s sensitive bubble. As expected, those same livid eyes grew in size.

“Or what?” Lance mocked, his arrogance rising with his eyebrow. “You’ll give me ten seconds of awkward half-hugging?” 

He opened his mouth in indignation before the two were interrupted, a muted buzzing from Keith’s jean pocket being the culprit. He took out his phone—“Oh _god,_ ” Lance exhaled, earning another glare from those narrowed eyes. “For a second there I swore you were gonna pull out a Nokia.” Keith punched Lance in the arm, rolling his eyes as Lance grunted melodramatically. 

“Keith!” he gasped, bringing his hand up to cradle his upper arm. “That hurt!” 

“Wrong arm, idiot,” replied Keith, tone dry and gaze flat. 

Lance mouthed an ‘oh’ as Keith turned the phone in his hand. The artificial light lit up his face, his look flipping from nonchalance to shock to horror in a matter of milliseconds. If Lance hadn’t been staring, he’d had looked down to see the contact that was causing such an abrupt switch of expression. 

“What’s wrong? An old ex calling you, mullet?” he joked, hoping the nickname would lighten the mood. Or, at the least, rile Keith out of that frightened look. Lance began to feel the effect of Keith’s scare crawling through his own skin, receiving no response from Keith. 

Lance narrowed his eyes, leaning in. “Okay, Keith, what’s the—“

Keith stepped away and into the hall, leaving Lance unable to sneak a peak at the contact. Dark eyes flickered between the phone and Lance, Keith answering with a hushed tone. Covering the phone’s bottom to block out sound, he finally gave Lance a straight look. 

“Uh, I—I really need to take this.” Before Lance could protest, Keith had practically ran back into the living room. Despite being unable to see from his angle in the kitchen’s doorway, he heard the glass door slide open and subsequently shut. Something uncomfortable formed in the pit of his stomach, sinking and squirming further into him. He wanted to claw at the feeling, go after Keith and make sure he was okay. 

_But it’s not my place,_ a despondent piece of him reminded. The warning had been so quiet, fleeting like a whisper. Despite their recent progress, Lance wasn’t that close to Keith. They had grown closer like this before, way back in the beginning of Voltron, but so much—to much—had changed since then. 

Light, cheery music sifted its way through Lance’s reminiscent thoughts, causing him to twist his way back to face the kitchen. It was a familiar tune, gentle at first, then hitting him like a tsunami’s wave. He had played it during a game of musical chairs—a game that seemed to have happened years ago now. Back then, Keith and him had always fought. Still did now. 

But that moment was different. 

Ignoring the fact that they both started dancing to compete with one another, and it had ended with the same competition, there was something in between that stuck. It was the last round. It was when Lance McClain had to teach Keith Kogane to dance. Even though they both still had a game to win, and even though Keith was still cranky for not finishing his seventh cup of coffee, when they started dancing together, everything else fell away. 

For once in his life, he wasn’t below Keith, and he didn’t need to act like he was above Keith either. Those few minutes of Keith’s amusing passionate but inept missteps weren’t about arguing. It wasn’t about who could throw the best insult—or nearest chair—to hurt the other with. There wasn’t some vindictive goal against the other anymore. It had become something else, even if just for that moment. 

It wasn’t about a chair or a game anymore, it was about a boy.

“Lance, stop standing there and help Paz with the food,” his mama started, though Lance couldn’t hear. “Is Keith staying? I hope so, I wanted to talk to him. He seems so sweet.” 

—

Keith slipped into the outside’s chill, sliding the door shut behind him. With his back facing the glass, he held the phone back up to his ear. “I thought we had the day off, why’re you calling me?” Keith felt his voice waver in his throat as he spoke, and it was just so hard to force it straight. He wanted to sound cold and uncaring, he wanted to so much it ached, but he couldn’t. He was terrified of the person on the other line. Zarkon could ruin him easily, and he knew it too. It was such simple knowledge that he took it to remind Keith of it every day. Z knew people, it was the only reason Keith had gotten the role of Red. 

_Or he’s just saying that,_ an insubordinate idea floated to the top of his thoughts. _You got earned the job because you can act, not because of connections. Not because of Z._

Oh how badly he wished it were true.

“You haven’t seen the article yet?” his manager’s harsh voice cut through. Keith wondered how much of the conversation he had missed daydreaming. “It’s on TMZ, you know, just one of the _biggest_ celebrity news outlets.” Keith flailed, quickly putting the phone on speaker before looking it up. 

“What am I looking up?” he asked, his fingers frozen over the keyboard. There was silence, and Keith gauged the chances of Z just hanging up on him. Disappointedly enough, he heard a long sigh before his phone buzzed. A text.

“I sent you the link,” Z replied curtly. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

He opened his messages, his finger hovering dangerously over the link. He wanted to sink to his knees and do nothing. He thought of just not opening it at all, hanging up on his manager entirely, perhaps run off to Mexico where he’d be safe from Z after their new president built a wall. 

“Well?” he snapped, making Keith flinch, and as with the rest of his luck in life so far, accidentally open up the link. 

The page opened to TMZ’s website, an image of a recognizable building plastered across the front page. He squinted at his phone in the light of the setting sun, bringing up one hand to shield his face. Then it hit him, and his stomach dropped and hit the ground. _This is Lance’s house._

“What the…” he mumbled, frowning. 

There, shot from a strange angle, was an image of Lance and Keith side-by-side. They were in front of the house, Keith’s motorcycle cut off on the bottom left of the picture. The most eye-catching part, though, that made him really fall to his knees, was the timing. 

They were holding hands. 

He stared, and he kept staring, not daring to let his eyes move. It had been such a stupid move, he knew it before and even more so now. He had wanted to comfort Lance so much he hadn’t thought it through. They were both famous actors, of course someone would find them in an inconvenient situation. He just never thought they’d be heartless enough to sell them out. 

Below the image, in large Times New Roman font and bolded, was the headline: **Keith Kogane and Lance McClain, Voltron’s “Secret” Couple Revealed**

Keith felt his blood run cold in his veins, unable to restrain a bitter laugh. His hands shook as the setting sun disappeared on the horizon, leaving him with the remaining tatters of orange and red light. He wanted to scream and cry and break something, his grasp tightening around his quiet phone. Everything, in fact, seemed tranquil now. 

Keith assumed it was the calm before the storm.

He forced in a faltering breath. He knew from the start he had made a mistake, so many mistakes, in fact, that there was no way to come back. _But now,_ he thought, _I can’t stop making them._

“I told you, Kogane,” he said with a voice so void of emotion it became frigid, sending chills down Keith’s spine. “And you didn’t listen.” He wanted to interrupt, explain himself and that the situation was a simple misunderstanding. He could talk to the writer of the article, this didn’t mean anything, they’d talk it out, and his career wouldn’t be ruined. “Fix this, or you’re done.” 

His manager hung up. 

The quiet had crept up on him since he walked out into the backyard, its hands wrapping around Keith and suffocating him slowly, noiselessly. His mind went numb as he stared, the bright screen staring back at him tauntingly. Pale and tan colors entwining together, spread over an otherwise plain background was what was going to destroy him. 

_What about Lance?_

The thought struck without notice, but once it had Keith couldn’t budge it away. What _about_ Lance? Well, it was easy. For Lance, he had nothing to mull over, because for Lance the world was open to him. He had freedom, he could say whatever, do whatever, and flirt with whoever he wanted. There wasn’t a single door closed to him, and Keith envied him for it. 

There was a tug on the hem of his jacket, causing him to jump in his skin. He dropped his phone, long forgotten on the ground as he shot around to face his attacker. His gaze flew to where the assaulter would be, but saw no one. Baffled, he made a sour face, his eyes still wandering. 

“Red?”

Keith looked down, this time, with expectancy. Kayden stood before him—no, he had a scar on his cheek. “You’re the other twin, right?” he asked, to which the child nodded. Though it felt like he was tearing himself from the inside out, he welcomed a distraction to his imminent doom. 

“Aiden,” the boy told him. He was about half Keith’s height, and bent over to grab something in the grass. Whipping back up within the same second, Aiden handed him a phone. Keith’s phone.

“Oh,” he muttered, quickly retrieving it to place in his pocket. “Thanks.” He tried to avoid looking at Aiden for a prolonged period of time; he felt like he was going to break down any second, and no kid should see that. Aiden didn’t seem to mind, as he was staring up at Keith without end. After a moment, he tugged on Keith’s jacket again, this time not letting go. 

“What is it?” 

With his free hand, Aiden urgently pointed towards the door behind him. He didn’t even hear it open. Or was the kid out here already? Once again, he was tugged towards the door, and couldn’t help but give in. 

“All right, all right,” he nodded reluctantly, letting Aiden pull him inside. “Where are we going?” The boy didn’t respond, favoring a silence Keith could understand. “Not much of a talker like Kayden, huh?” It was a strange concept: a McClain that didn’t like talking. 

_Maybe Lance stole his so he could double his own talking._

The living room was empty, a sight Keith hadn’t yet seen before, leaving a strange taste in his dry mouth. He didn’t realize he expected to be led into the kitchen until they passed it, his frown deepening. The boy was taking him down the hall. They passed rooms Keith politely refused to look into as they passed. Even so, he noticed a similar trait they shared. All the doors had been left open. Whether they were flat-out open, varying degrees, or lacked a door at all. (Keith assumed it was a closet. It had to be a closet, right?) He was now being brought upstairs, his hesitancy growing at the idea of trespassing. 

“Aiden,” he started, “where are we going?” 

As if on cue, the boy stopped and released his hold. The final door on the second-floor hall was a bathroom. Slightly confused, Keith watched as the small boy waddled over and grabbed a stool, dragging it across the tile. One foot distance later, Aiden stepped up on the stool, placing his hands in the sink. 

It clicked. 

“You want me to wash my hands before we eat?” he asked for confirmation, and once again received a nod. Food was the last thing on Keith’s mind, yet he couldn’t help but chuckle and comply. He removed his gloves first, placing them aside before letting the warm water curve and dampen his skin. His fingers were deathly cold, the warm water a slight shock before a wave of relief. 

He looked up and stared at the mirror, both himself and Aiden watching back thoughtfully. The two locked eyes, and now having caught Keith’s attention, Aiden pointed to the bar of soap. Keith let out a small, amused exhale. 

Minutes later, ready for dinner by ‘Aiden’s standards,’ he was tugged appropriately down the hall. This time around, he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. One of the doors on this floor had been closed shut. 

Keith slowed down, his mini commander tugging a while longer before frowning and turning around to stare. Keith stared back, “Whose room is that?” Getting significantly more strange, the boy broke out into a grin. “What?” he prodded further, his curiosity ebbing away at him. Aiden retracted his hand, motioning Keith into the room. 

A small bundle of distrust began to grow, and Keith gave the boy a look. “You know if you’re making me go in there to murder me—“ he paused at that, his expression relaxing at the thought. “Actually…”

 _Better this than having to deal with my shitty excuse for a career,_ he admitted internally. 

Keith stepped forward decisively, reaching out and twisting the doorknob. He gradually opened the door, which creaked, peering inside from a relatively safe distance. Now if this was a horror movie, the killer would end up behind him or be hiding behind the door. Essentially, he was going to die either way. 

_Finally, a win-win situation for me,_ he joked dryly.

The room he stepped into was small and messy—even for Keith. It had worn blue wallpaper, a closed closet off to the side, with the only tidy thing being the hardwood floor. There was a window, a single huge one facing the backyard, its curtains pulled back with care. The twin bed was haphazardly made, the dark blue bedsheets splattered with intricate stars and planets, with a desk just yards away. On it stood a closed platinum laptop, a curious item that sparked the question of who lived here. To Keith, it looked more like a workplace than a bedroom, but the interior design isn’t what caught his attention. 

Above the desk holding manilla folders, various files stuffed until they couldn’t breathe, and miscellaneous papers that were strewn around was an image. At first Keith didn’t pay much mind, the bright, annoying colors deterring him from even looking in its direction, but when he actually looked at it…

It was a picture of Keith. 

He choked on nothing, blinking rapidly at the image. Moving closer out of piqued interest, he recognized it with ease. It was a poster that made Keith stop dead in the center of the room. It was an old one too, one from years ago when he was just starting out. He was, at most, a preteen. He had a bit of a rounded face, much to his dismay, but what gave it away was his smile. He knew it was a younger photo of him, because he stopped smiling, even for fans or interviewers, just months after his first show. Everyone in the acting business said his glare and constant frown would turn people away from hiring him, but really, the gossip spread his name. 

He found himself rarely smiling for pictures anymore. Allura and Shiro had gotten him to do it more lately, taking random pictures while they were shooting or off set getting coffee. He liked it more now than before, because this time his small smiles were meant for his friends, and no one else. They could be special. 

Keith turned back to the open door, a small ineluctable sigh of relief leaving his lungs. Aiden remained in place, his smirk faded but visible. “It’s a nice room,” Keith commented, wondering if the boy would talk. “The, uh, poster… is a nice touch.” 

Aiden giggled, a sweet yet devious sound, nodding. “It is a nice room,” he echoed, sounding smug. Keith wondered if he was brought here to feed this boy offhanded compliments about the room. He guessed it was Aiden’s; though he seemed quiet, Keith was sure he could be just as evil as his twin.

“It’s really comfortable to sleep in, too,” he went on, eying Keith with a watchful gaze. Not sure how to respond, Keith just turned back into the room, glancing out the shut window. The sky was darkening, one hue at a time. The remaining splotches of color on the horizon had completely wiped away now, the night’s shade passing over the sky. 

Guilt tugged at his insides, he had long overstayed his welcome. He couldn’t comprehend the idea of joining the McClain family down at their dinner table. Hell, just staying this long was enough. In comparison, his visit here was probably longer than he’d stayed at a few other foster homes. 

“Why are you so sad?” 

Keith turned. “What?”

“You’re not smiling,” commented the boy, as if those three words answered everything. 

“So?” he retorted, trying not to sound defensive. “Some people don’t smile as much as others. It doesn’t mean they’re sad.” Though his words were true, Aiden was right. Keith was upset, and frankly needed a moment alone. 

“But you were smiling earlier.” That caught his attention. Keith’s gaze focused on Aiden, who wore a serious expression. He didn’t seem to be lying, but Keith didn’t seem to recall smiling when they played ‘the floor is lava.’

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, the corners of his lips dipping into a frown. “I didn’t…” The fresh memories from today flooded to the front of his mind, warm laughs from the kids mixed in a mash pot of cheeky smiles, countdowns, and the more prominent Lance-guaranteed grin. If Lance was arrogant before, after Keith’s little slip up against the tree that led to Lance’s win, it was nothing in comparison to the never-ending taunts he received afterward. Though childish in nature, Keith couldn’t lie, it had be fun. 

Maybe he had smiled. 

His knees finally buckled under him, and Keith slid to the floor. Aiden froze, staring from the sidelines as Keith sat with crossed legs, proceeding to cover his face with his hands. His back pushed up agains the side of the bed frame, the way he sat making the position uncomfortable. This was pathetic; he was breaking down in a stranger’s room while a worried child watched. 

_No, this isn’t pathetic,_ he remarked. _I am._

“Aiden, there you are. Have you seen—“ Keith’s head shot up. A pair of wide blue eyes locking with his own, Lance staring at him as if he was an escaped zoo animal. “ _Keith?_ ” Keith’s shoulders rose up as his body attempted folding in on itself, breaking eye contact to grimace at the floor. 

Lance leaned down and whispered into Aiden’s ear, the younger boy shaking his head in response. Lance said something else, which Aiden also responded to in the same way, before shooing him off. “The food’s ready, go down and tell mama we’ll eat later,” he told his brother. Aiden just nodded, running off without another thought. 

This isn’t how Keith planned today going at _all._ To think, it began with a meeting to bolster his career, and was ending with him losing that aforementioned career along with his mind. 

“Keith…”

He held his breath, the sudden gentleness in Lance’s tone completely uncalled for. His chest constricted, as if preparing to be hit. He didn’t need to be confronted—he didn’t want it. His heart’s pace quickened with each step Lance took toward him, it skipping a beat as Lance slid down into a criss-cross position in front of him. He leaned his head down, looking directly up at Keith. Keith’s nerves had an instant blackout, numbing his pulse and, in that second, unable to move. 

When the second passed, Keith shut his eyes. His hands came up a bit too violently, his palms pressing into his own closed eyes in frustration. “Sorry,” he grumbled, the desperation to hide expanding painfully inside his chest, pounding against him. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Lance asked, each word calm and unhurried. His tone reminded Keith that Lance had all the time in the world, making him scoff. Meanwhile, Keith’s career had a timer, which only reset if Keith crushed the part of him that the world hated. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner, or day, or—whatever,” he muttered, his vocals strained. Keith pressed his palms in deeper until he could see stars. “I just… I should go.” Despite his words, Keith didn’t move. Expecting to be left alone, the abrupt warmth that pressed around his wrists and brushed against his cheeks made Keith start. Not withdrawing, Lance tenderly dragged Keith’s hands away from his face and down to his lap. His breath quickened, as did his heart, the inability to shield himself shifting his mind into a panicked overdrive. To make matters worse, Lance had the audacity to smile at him.

“Why so blue?” he asked, but didn’t give Keith the chance to answer. “That’s my job, you know.” 

He rolled his eyes, unable to restrict the small smile that broke across his face. Keith chuckled without meaning to, the pitiful sound cracking in some places and warbling in others. He shook his head, his bangs coming to cover parts of his face. “Really? With the shit job you’re doing, who would’ve guessed?” 

Lance gasped comically in response, faking an offended expression until he grinned back. “Your humor’s still intact, I see.” Keith’s smile dipped back down into a frown and he broke eye contact, looking down. _About all that’s left, really._

“You hear the news?” he asked, capturing both Keith’s gaze and attention within a second. “Pidge told me a minute ago. Is that what you’re upset about?” Keith stared, his brows drawing together in a small bout of confusion. 

“I… and you don’t get why I’m upset?” 

Lance returned the strange look. “I mean, I knew we’ve never been on the best of terms, but I didn’t think it’d be _that_ bad. Plus we could always talk to the writers again and ask them to change it, so I thought…” Each word just further pulled Keith down into a whirlpool of bewilderment, muddling his mind up to where he couldn’t think straight. 

“Wait, what?” he forced out. “What are you talking about?” 

Lance gave him a long, questioning look before answering. “The new script? Pidge texted me saying they finished, really fast too. She only told me because of… uh,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, hesitance vivid in his deep eyes. “We have a—well, it’s a kissing scene.” 

Keith couldn’t respond. His mouth was dry, and he wasn’t sure he could work his jaw. Too much was crashing down on top of him right now, and all he wanted was to scream, but his lungs were being crushed. 

“Keith?” Lance sounded nervous. “We could ask—“

“That’s not what I care about,” he huffed loudly, biting his bottom lip. Stalling to give himself time to regain control, he gently pulled a hand from Lance’s grasp. Lance let him. Pulling out his phone and opening up the page, Keith handed his phone to him. He watched those blue eyes scan the page, his hand thumbing through the article. His gaze snapshotted between surprise, worry, anger, as well as a mashed up combination of expressions Keith couldn’t put a name to. 

It was seeing Lance’s reaction when he realized: this affected Lance too. Though it didn’t reveal his ‘scandalous sexuality,’ like it did for Keith, it would still get a rise from their audience. 

“I’m so sorry,” Keith grimaced, worrying the bottom of his lip with unbridled aggression. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—I just thought something bad was going to happen and that you needed someone so I… _god_ , I’m really sorry, Lance…” 

When Lance looked up, he half anticipated a punch to the face, or for Lance to kick him out. So when Lance simply handed Keith back his phone, shooting him another warm smile, he swore his entire respiratory system collapsed on the spot. He barely remembered returning his phone to his pocket, his hand shaking the whole time. 

Turning back to Lance, Keith nervously hovered his free hand above his knee. With an amused puff from Lance, he reached out again and gently pulled Keith’s wrist into his lap. He never imagined someone’s hands could be so warm yet so comforting at the same time. 

“Dude, you worry about the weirdest things, I swear.” Lance let out the strangest and most pleasing noise, Keith gawking at the sound. Lance was laughing quietly, his smile only growing at seeing Keith stare. “This one’s easy. We just explain. I had a family emergency and you were there for me—that you did it because I was terrified for my family. They won’t argue or say I took you home for another reason, unless they want to lose their cred and sound like total dicks. Simple.” 

Keith had to admit, it was a sound plan, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that plagued his insides. There was false media, and even if they cleared up the lies, there was no guarantee people would believe them. Lance, noticing his clear distress, released Keith’s wrists. The sudden loss of warmth made him shiver, but didn’t make him freeze like Lance bringing his hand up to Keith’s face did. Keith didn’t move, not even breathing as Lance pushed stray dark strands behind his ear. “You know…” His hand lingered before he pulled away again, not breaking eye contact. “There _is_ something that always helps in times like these…” 

Lance’s supportive smile twisted into a sly grin, jumpstarting a sudden urge to run within Keith’s gut. His voice was low now, a devious glint shining in Lance’s eyes. “It works best when _the floor is lava,_ ” he whispered. 

Keith felt the urge to run screech to a halt, dissipating with realization. “Lance—no, this isn’t-it isn’t a good time for this.”

“Lance _yes,_ ” he replied, amusement speckling his tone. “Five,” he started cheerfully. Keith crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the bed. 

“What happens if I just didn’t move?” he challenged with a raised brow. 

“You lose,” said Lance. “Four.”

Keith didn’t back down, “And what exactly do I lose?” 

Lance hummed in response, stroking his sharp chin. “ _Well,_ mullet, considering what our acting careers have in store for us…” he was taking so much amusement from the situation, Keith nearly mistook him for the Cheshire cat. “The first one to lose against the other has to initiate our first practice kiss.” 

Heat flooded Keith’s face as his mouth dropped, and he anathematized his pale skin. Lance either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as he went on with the same infuriating grin. “Oh man, that reminds me, we’re at three now.” Keith’s poor heart threw itself against his ribs like a prisoner, undeniably pumping more blood to his face. 

“Lance!” he hissed, jumping up from the floor like a startled cat. “That’s not—“

“Two.” 

Keith stepped back, unable to breathe this close to Lance. His hand hit the edge of the bed, and his instincts took over. Placing both hands behind him and firmly on the bed, he shoved his feet off the floor. Overshooting, he tumbled back and over himself, rolling backwards until his head smacked into the wall the bed was pushed up against. 

“On— _Jesus,_ Keith!” though concern laced his voice, he was laughing. “You okay?” he asked between heaves of breath, Keith only just recovering, his breathing about the same as Lance’s. A dull throbbing pain pulsed at the back of his head, but it was bearable. 

“You’re an ass,” he mumbled in reply. 

Lance, having calmed down, dropped down beside Keith on the bed. He gave Keith a pleased side glance, “Quick to throw yourself in my bed, huh?” 

As much as Keith wanted to retaliate, the memory of a certain aspect of the room stopped him. “This must be your room, then? Wow. I didn’t know you were a fan of me for so long,” he said smugly, motioning to the poster on his right. Lance followed the motion, his eyes widening in fear as they landed on the poster. Seeing Lance’s tan skin flush set off a self-satisfied smirk from Keith. 

“Wh—no!” yelled Lance, startled. “No, no. This _was_ my room, but it’s not anymore—it’s Mia’s. My older sister’s. And that’s _her_ poster, she was obsessed with you when we were kids. Psh, I hated your stupid mullet.”

Keith let out a sigh, the moment ruined. “Subtle.” The two sunk into silence, returning back to lie on their backs to stare at the ceiling. Yesterday morning, Keith would have laughed at idea very idea of Lance and him being civil. Now, he was in bed beside Lance as the world around him assumed his gay ass out of a job. His hands clenched into fists at the thought. 

“You really think we can pull this off?” Keith turned his head to the side, glancing at Lance’s profile. 

Lance scoffed, copying Keith’s motion to stare back. “Of course. You have the blue paladin by your side, after all.” Though he recognized Lance meant to come off as arrogant, there was an underlying tone that hit Keith hard. He had help this time, he didn’t need to push through alone. 

Keith smiled in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i have a little announcement… right now im working on another new klance fic, and before you worry: it will _not_ affect the updates for WHKC (this fic). so nothing to worry about on that end, but my question being: would u guys be interested in me announcing it here once i post it? 
> 
> if u are, please let me know in the comments! i was ~~more than~~ a little paranoid about telling u guys, since im worried no one’s gonna respond. but i guess we’ll see :)


	8. nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so imma be real w you guys, i’ve been totally swamped ^ ^; i had so much to do this past week and didn’t get to write as much as i’d like. i apologize for falling behind but i hope u enjoy this update regardless!
> 
> and, once again, i have a quick announcement at the end of this chapter c:

Lance’s perspective of time warped in that old room. The sun had faded into the horizon long ago, and his only measure of time was the steady, slow breathing of the boy beside him. His mind was drawn by curiosity, wondering what had calmed Keith down so fast. Not so long ago, Keith had been a raging mess sprawled on the hardwood. 

Keith gave off the cold impression—to Lance, as Pidge reminded him, anyway—that he wasn’t bothered by most things. At the very least, Lance assumed Keith didn’t show emotion, which was one thing he seemed to get right. He had seen his family and a few friends break down, but never like Keith. He had been so quiet Lance had mistaken him for an animated corpse whose vocal cords had been cut. 

It wasn’t a natural silence that came with life, it was stunted and blocked out. Even when Keith relaxed after Lance’s reassurances, the seams that tightly bound back any real reaction from Keith were untouched. He had been holding back, and not of his own will either. With worse luck than Sisyphus’s, Keith was forced to push back an invisible force, unable to even know what kept compelling him back down. There was definitely a forceful hush hiding in the shadows, and Lance was going to bring it to light. 

“Hey, Keith?” 

The whispering was unnecessary, yet he didn’t dare interrupt the unusual tranquility between them. It was an atmosphere he shared with Keith once in a blue moon. There was little time, both on set and off, where him and Keith weren’t combatively throwing the gauntlet down before each other’s feet. Admittedly Lance tended to start the majority of their arguments, Keith was the one who always rose to the challenge. 

“Keith?” The hushed tone faded along with the amicable nature of the room, a worrying knot tying deep inside his gut. 

Lance dug his palms into the sheets underneath him, pressing himself up into a sitting position. His gaze was dragged to Keith, his eyes closed and his thick eyelashes brushing over his cheekbones with a gentle touch. His chest moved with unhurried, limited breaths. Fitting to his character, even in sleep he maintained a firm grace unmatched by anyone else. 

The boy had fallen asleep. 

In _his_ bed. 

His amusement pressed his mouth into a small grin. Lance was already hatching up jokes he’d be teasing Keith with for the next few months. Bringing himself up to stand again, careful not to wake Keith, Lance watched the mullet in a sense of peace he had never seen—and yet, couldn’t suit him better. Regardless of the scenario, Keith’s scowl was as permanent a feature as his vivid eyes or bushy eyebrows. It was a truth Lance had believed gospel until today. 

Sleep softened the excessive sharp curves and edges that lined Keith’s profile, turning him into a creature that wouldn’t glare when receiving a hug, or make snide comments about those who pissed him off. The look was stunning to the point of inducing incredulity. Lance knew the shock of Keith’s sudden tender appearance was messing with his head when his next thought afflicted him.

 _How is he so cute, even when sleeping?_ he bit his bottom lip at the question, like the words were spoken and could be stopped if he simply shut his mouth. _That is so unfair._

Lance’s gaze shifted to Keith’s lips, which were now parted to let out a priceless grumble. The boy tossed in his sleep, abruptly turning on his side. Lance’s grin widened. “Oh Keith,” he muttered as he shuffled to Keith’s side. “You’re gonna regret this later.” 

A part of him was disappointed he received no response, as provoking Keith was only fun when he got a response. Despite that, somehow, this quibbling, sleeping Keith was even more enjoyable. He knew it was wrong, but a juvenile portion of his mind thought about pulling a small prank or two. 

Lance knelt in front of Keith, his hands gently working on Keith’s shoes. His legs were already dangling off the edge, making Lance’s job easy. Sliding off each boot with caution, he placed them aside and wrapped a hand under Keith’s calves. He then shifted his free hand under the nape of Keith’s neck, momentarily carrying him bridal style, and proceeded to lie Keith down so he was no longer perpendicular to the bed. Keith had stayed quiet save for a few incoherent mumbles. Lance praised himself on his good work, thanking all the practice he had gotten from bringing his younger siblings to bed. 

He primed himself to leave the room, not trusting himself to be alone with Keith any longer, but halted at hearing a low-pitched whine. His head whipped around, his gaze reconnecting with the sleeping boy. He was shivering.

“ _Jesus,_ Keith…” 

Though doubtful that the room could be cold enough to call for shivering, Lance returned to the bedside. Letting out a breath in preparation, he began tugging on the blanket underneath Keith, eventually bringing it down and pulling the covering up to Keith’s chest. He paused. 

_The jacket._

Keith still had on his short-cut jacket, the one Lance always argued against practicality. Now, he finally had proof. Taking it off would not only be a lot more work than he was willing to do, it would just make him colder. Plus, even with Lance’s skills, he knew he’d probably end up waking Keith. 

He shifted suddenly, and Lance froze. Apprehension grew from his gut, a concrete block holding him in place. Keith had brought his hands out from under the blanket, resting them on his pillow, palm-up and on either side of his face. Lance nearly looked away, too much vulnerability to look at, but something caught his eye. 

His gaze was drawn back to the sleeping knockout, this time landing on his hands. They were still gloved. Lance rolled his eyes, _Like those do anything to help anyway._ Leaning down, he reached for the closer gloved hand, gingerly pulling off the first and pocketing it. He would store it on the desk after he got the full set. 

He reached over for the other hand, but was forced to halt once more. The remaining hand had reached out, clasping Lance’s own hand with an unexpected intensity and desperation, then bringing it back down against the pillow. Warmth flooded from Keith’s exposed fingertips, pressing into Lance’s knuckles. Their hands now entwined, his wide blue eyes snapped back to Keith’s face. 

“There is _no_ way you’re asleep, you ass,” he hissed under a shaky breath. Keith had stopped shuddering, his head tilting to the side and facing Lance.

He felt himself stray, gradually drifting down from Keith’s fluttering eyelashes to his nose and then stopping at a pair of lips. They were parted slightly, tinged red in some places to signify a worried bottom lip. Keith’s hold on Lance’s hand tightened suddenly, then relaxed, the boy grumbling something. Even in his sleep, he managed to sound annoyed. Lance tittered, a gentle smile pulling at him. 

_I could kiss him right now._

His mind malfunctioned at its own thought, and he felt his nerves self-destruct. His stomach plummeted to his knees, his legs going numb from the brunt force. Lance flushed, the inextinguishable heat rushing to fill the freeze of his cheeks. He could have sworn the tips of his ears were singed.

_Oh, God._

Lance stumbled back, his hand unceremoniously detaching from Keith’s as he fell apart and onto the floor. His back slammed against the wood, and Lance choked on his breath. He waited, sure Keith would wake up and scowl and ask what he could possibly be doing on the ground. He held his broken mental gears in place, hearing out for any implications of the mullet waking. 

None came. 

He gave a relieved sigh, allowing his head to drop back and join the rest of his body on the floor. He was safe. His heart took longer to slow than his breathing, and he prayed he wasn’t as red as he was a minute ago. He gaped at the ceiling, still processing the thought as his mind whirled, unable to find purchase. 

_Oh—dear God—that-that wasn’t…_

Lance commanded his unstable legs up, heaving in a breath. He was going to have to do this eventually, and when he did, he wouldn’t be able to escape Keith’s sneers and honest slights like Lance could when he was asleep. 

_He could have woken up,_ the logically side of him reasoned. The possibility terrified him, and he was grateful he hadn’t let his impulses run his behavior then. He escaped had escaped for now. _You’ll have to kiss him eventually, and when you do, you’re going to embarrass yourself,_ another part of him mocked. 

“People… say…” Lance’s head shot up, gawking at Keith—who was still asleep. An exasperated sound came up from Lance’s throat, and he couldn’t stop it from leaving his open mouth.

_He talks in his sleep too?_

Lance dared to step closer, ensuring to stay at a distance, but too curious to ignore Keith’s mutterings. He leaned in, looking down at an uncomfortable Keith. Creases formed between his bushy eyebrows as he fretted under the covers. Lance’s fingers itched to smooth out the ridges, but remained still.

“What’ll…” Keith slurred, a rising panic in his tone. “They say…?” 

Lance frowned. “What’ll who say?” he pursued quietly. After today Lance knew there was something wrong, and if he could just find the source, he’d crush those fears that plagued his hurting companion. Keith’s head just shook from side to side in silenced hysteria, refusing to answer. 

Lance didn’t stop his thumb from reaching out and pressing against the furrowed space just under Keith’s forehead. He stroked the ridges until they flattened out and Keith visibly relaxed, a new warmth pooling out into Lance’s stomach at the sight. 

“It’s okay… I’m here for you now, okay Keith?” He hadn’t idled as the words entered the room. His hand recoiled in defense as he was left exposed, his feet antsy and telling him to leave. Lance didn’t stall, leaving soon after, and making sure to shut off the lamplight on his way out. 

Sleeping on the couch was going to be a necessary escape.

—

Keith couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he had remembered what he’d dreamt about. He was surrounded by a prism of colors that blinded him with light. A juxtaposition of warm and cold reached out when Keith couldn’t see, pressing up against him. A need to curl up in on himself wrenched at his chest, but his body refused. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so out of place. 

As if feeling his discomfort, shapes reached out, gentle in their touch and snug-fitting. He heard muted words, listening to the compassionate sounds yet unable to make out their meaning. Their forms were unfamiliar, but calming, a new sense Keith was grateful to welcome. 

The feeling didn’t last long, much to his dismay, and joined the rest of his past as he was plummeted into darkness. He dreamt of hazy figures and hushed whispers around him. Without the warmth that grounded him and gave him certainty in this upside-down world, he was lost. He couldn’t even wander, unable to deduce which way was right and which way the sun rose—if there was a sun at all.

He sighed into the darkness, the sound echoing off nothing, and he decided to sit down. He moved slow, unsure of his movements. Keith eventually felt out what was the ground, or what he assumed it to be, which felt like cold tile to his bare palms. He started a bit, bringing his hands up to his face for inspection. 

He had lost his gloves. 

A ray of light broke through the walls of encompassing black, and Keith glanced up. His manager was a statue that shone in the shadows, and Keith’s face scrunched up at the sight. 

“Why must you be so difficult?” Z’s voice boomed louder than any speaker, intimidating the expanding silhouette walls and commanding Keith to wince and cover his ears with his hands. “I’m _telling_ you, this is why you’re alone—it’s going to be your downfall. You let go of this stupid phase and you’ll thrive. Your career will continue to peak and you won’t need a reason to be afraid anymore.” 

Keith had started screaming against him, but no matter how much he rose his voice, there was always the other one that was louder. It hurt, a pounding in his head like a prison break rioting against him. The walls around him collapsed, revealing more darkness. He brought his hands down in his lap, scintillating red smearing his hands. His eyes flew from the sudden color, up to the towering figure before him. 

“ _Help me,_ ” Keith gasped out. 

There was no longer a man before him, he had been replaced by a hunched creature, which leaned in closer and closer. He felt its breath on his face, a damp and disgusting odor followed by a cruel laugh. A long, whitish tongue unrolled from its gaping jaw, dropping down into Keith’s lap. Its tongue was like its own entity, slithering up his leg and into his hands. Red stained its tongue like paper, lapping up the color until his hands turned to black chalk. 

The monster screeched, a horrifying attempt at a second laugh. Keith could only watch as the beast reclaimed its tongue into its mouth, and grinned. Its empty eye sockets peering into Keith’s with a morbid curiosity. It leaned in, closing the distance between them and pressing their foreheads together. 

“ _Help_ you?” it spoke without moving its cracked, smirking lips. “Why help something that can’t help itself?” 

Keith bolted upright, drawing in his breath with rasping chokes and wheezing. His eyes swept the room in a frenzied dread, searching and awaiting the monster from his dreams. It was a sparse moment between his nightmares and reality were the two blended together, and he couldn’t tell them apart. 

His surroundings augmented in with time, filling in the fazed out haze. A bedroom soon focused into view, and he squinted at the natural light shining behind him. He brought a hand up to his face, then grew still at the sight. 

His hand was bare. 

He brought up his other hand, a trembling gesture that gave him brief release. Keith was only missing one glove. _Oh, don’t worry, just one glove. If Lance were here he’d slander my ‘edginess,’_ contempt bubbled in his thoughts, but was swiped away by solid realization. 

“Lance?” 

His eyes scoured the room once more, discovering nothing. Keith’s position had shifted too, from lying diagonal the bed to lying straight with it. A soft linen blanket covered his lower half, and Keith rushed to shove it off and step up. 

The moment his feet hit the floor, unease hit. 

He looked down, his feet not bare as he still wore his socks, but his boots unaccounted for. He made a face, once again scanning the room, but this time looking for any of his belongings. By the desk, pressed up against its side, sat his boots. 

With his boots shoved on in a rush, he pressed outside and into the hall. The fear of him still dreaming struck, making each step he took more determined and light as he reached the stairs. A fragrant aroma hit him at the bottom of the last step, and he slowed. It was sweet and warm, so unlike the bed he had awoken in. 

He walked on, his pace now sluggish as he traced the smell. Chaos erupted from down the hall and he frowned, moving towards the clanging of dishes paired with children’s yells and the patter of feet. Nearing the living room, a small bubble of laughter whirled from its open door, drawing in Keith. His eyes roamed, falling onto a group circle sitting on the floor. Lance was talking, his eyes bright and using his hands to emphasize his words. The McClain children he had met yesterday were watching him intently, Estrella the source of the giggling, and the twins noiselessly arguing over a plate of waffles. 

“—that’s the only way you can really win.” _Lance winning something?_ Keith scoffed in the doorway, and though not loudly, everyone had heard and turned to look at him. 

“Like you’ve ever won anything,” he shot at Lance, who gasped as if Keith had just shot him with an arrow. The kids sniggered, and Lance glided back into his normal arrogant mien. 

“You sure about that?” Lance replied, grinning in challenge. “Come over here then, and watch me prove you wrong.” He patted the empty floorspace beside him, scooting to make room for Keith. Keith obliged, but rolled his eyes as he sat down. 

“So?” Keith asked, “What’re you ready to lose at?” 

Lance didn’t respond, and the children fell in silence around them. Keith almost turned to glance at the kids, confused by the sudden silence, until a strangely familiar warmth pressed against his fingers. His eyes snapped down to slender, tan fingers pressing his own up from their spot on the floor. He barely registered it was the hand he was still missing his glove for. 

“Wh—?” he croaked, his question cutting off as Lance leaned in.

“The floor is lava.” The statement was lost to Keith, whose attention was stolen away when Lance’s hand flashed from listless to aggressive. His slim fingers grasped Keith’s, pushing against him. “Five,” Lance was staring at him, that smug grin still on his lips, but Keith couldn’t look away from their interlaced hands. Without any gloved divider between their hands, heat trickled into Keith’s hand, rushing straight to his face. His gut wasn’t doing much to help, squeezing against itself with every ounce of warmth. 

“Why isn’t Red moving?” Aiden questioned, frowning off to the side. 

“Because to win,” Lance stated, his blue eyes not leaving Keith, “you have to surprise your opponent. Four.” Keith’s mind jarred, reminding him of the countdown. 

He tried to stand. The first time his body didn’t react, the shock still pinging through his nerves and nullifying his demands. Keith tried again, desperation striking him harder than his surprise, and he moved to stand. This second time, another hand pressed against his hip, forcing Keith back down with a gasp. His gaze connected with Lance’s, and his heart was filled with so much pressure he was sure it would explode. He caught a glint in the fierce blue—Lance was just getting started.

“Three,” he said with a low voice. 

Keith’s taken hand was forced above his head, and the hand on his hip pressed him back as Lance continued closer. His back hit the ground, sending chilling ripples against him. As his body adjusted, his mind took notice of its new position. Lance was above him, keeping Keith on the ground. 

“I-Lan—“ 

“Two,” he whispered the warning. “The more you push the more I push back.” 

Keith’s head spun; he had no chance. Just to test the boundaries of his plight, Keith ventured to shift his lower half to the side. Immediate regret struck him immobile as Lance tutted. In response, the boy above him lowered his body until he was sitting on top of Keith—rendering Keith useless. If Keith wasn’t visibly red before, he was on fire now. 

_Oh—fuck, I—oh god no._

“ _One._ ” Lance’s head tilted to the side, his grin thriving. “Can’t believe you lost the bet in less than a day.” Keith paled with such velocity he wondered what the chances of him being part chameleon were—because this was not normal. 

_The kiss._

“I—“ Keith squeaked, unable to speak his already jumbled thoughts clearly. “I never agreed—“

“But you acted on it,” Lance challenged, not backing off. “You totally could have rejected it but you just followed along and literally flung yourself into my bed.” 

“He was in your _bed? _” Estrella broke in. Lance’s eyes flickered over to her, as if remembering—along with Keith—that there were children watching.__

__“Lance!” a voice scolded._ _

__This time, Lance’s eyes moved to someone to the doorway, then widened before he moved off Keith. Able to breath again, though with much effort, Keith managed to sit upright. He turned to see Lance’s mother in the doorway._ _

__“They are right in front of you!” she went on, motioning to the children with aggressive hands. Lance opened his mouth to retaliate, but was beaten by his siblings._ _

__“He was teaching us how to win a game!” Estrella explained._ _

__“By surprising our opponents,” Kayden added with a nod._ _

__Their mother sighed, shaking her head and muttering in a tongue Keith didn’t understand. Giving Lance one more berating look, she left the doorway and moved towards them. “Come on,” she waved the kids towards the door, “I’m driving you to school this morning. Go, get ready.” Each obliged, either rushing or sneaking away in giggles fits._ _

__“Ah,” Lance muttered, looking from his mother back to Keith. “We should probably get going too. Hunk and Pidge want us to meet up and get something to eat before we go on set.”_ _

__Keith couldn’t meet Lance’s gaze. Keith’s eyes wandered anywhere but his face, but froze just as he nearly skimmed over Lance’s pocket._ _

__“Is that… my glove?” his eyes met blue ones, confusing dipping the corners of Keith’s lips into a frown. The skies grew vaster, and Keith became more baffled._ _

__Lance’s hand flew to his pocket with an unusual self-consciousness. “O-oh,” he mumbled, pulling it out from his pocket. “Yeah, I—it wasn’t—uh, here.” After returning the glove, Lance’s entire demeanor shifted. Rather than smirks and smug stares, Keith was confronted with Lance’s mysterious embarrassment. Soon after the tone shift, he quickly realized how much worse this was in comparison to his position a few moments ago. Cocky Lance he could handle because he always had to, but this side of him was raw and fresh and rubbed off on Keith._ _

__Standing up, Keith ran his now-gloved hand through his mess of hair, attempting to brush it down. He took in one last breath to stabilize himself before turning to Lance’s mother._ _

__“Thank you so much,” he told her, catching her attention with a surprising ease. “I’m really sorry about falling asleep last night though…”_ _

__She chuckled, giving an unexpected smile that floored Keith. “My boy, you have no reason to apologize,” Mrs. McClain paused, a glint flashing between her lips that Keith knew to be the maker of Lance’s devious looks. “Except for missing dinner. The children were especially sad—not being able to talk to their hero Red was an intense blow I’m sure.”_ _

__“Mama,” Lance cut in from beside Keith, offended. “Mullet and I work together and I’m a _way_ better actor, their big bro is already a big enough hero.” _ _

__She rose a brow. “¿Apodos? With what you were pulling earlier too?” Mama asked Lance. “I think I’m starting to believe what Riel told me, niño.” Lance made a sound between a squeak and a cry for help. Keith would have laughed if his attention wasn’t already fixated on the strange tint of Lance’s cheeks._ _

__Lance took a second, opening and closing his mouth multiple times before deciding on his next sentence. “We’re leaving!” he settled in a loud voice. He grabbed Keith’s hand, the reoccurring circumstance now less of a surprise, but still caused his chest to flutter. Warmth like this still took Keith some getting used to, but he was determined to get over the feeling in time._ _

__The two were out the door just in time for Keith to regain control a calm pulse._ _

__“You’ve got to be kidding me.”_ _

__Lance had stopped, barely stepping outside. Keith glanced up, his gaze automatically landing on the curb. His instinct feared Lance’s exasperation came from Keith’s bike being stolen, but it still stood waiting. Then he noticed the crowd. Around his motorcycle were a group of people, holding microphones, notepads, and the sparse newsman and their camera._ _

__“Journalists,” Keith said as it hit him. His manager’s reminder from yesterday shone through, and he tensed. He still needed to fix this._ _

__Fans never really worried him, but journalists were a different story—they were vicious dogs when the chance of juicy information was presented. They went to extraordinary lengths just to get a good story. That desperation paired with an unmitigated disregard for the person they are questioning terrified Keith; his words always ended up being twisted._ _

__The hand holding his tautened, and Keith looked over to meet Lance’s level gaze. His sky blue eyes held a determination Keith could only see in one of their absurd competitions. Now knowing he held Keith’s attention, Lance smiled._ _

__“I already told you we’re doing this,” he spoke in a hushed tone, even with the reporters a decent distance away. “Try not to look so worried—they smell fear,” Lance joked, gently tugging on Keith’s hand as he walked forward. Keith gave in, his words giving him more comfort than Keith was willing to admit. He let himself relax, his intwined hand the only part of him to remain rigid._ _

__The duo pressed on, moving off the veranda and towards Keith’s bike, where the reporters noticed them approaching. There was a moment’s pause, when the flock didn’t advance and simply stared. It was the second of uncertainty all people experienced before recognizing him, and it grew more common as his name became more well-known._ _

__The moment passed, and the group rushed up to them, trampling the lawn as a shortcut. The gut urge to press himself up against Lance, something solid, implored him, but he refused. The situation was bad enough with them holding hands—the very act they had been caught in the other day._ _

__Interviewers’ questions bombarded them at once. Sounds mashed and collided together, and even if Keith tried he wouldn’t have been able to listen to such a jumbled mess. Their bodies and aggression molded into one huge shouting conglomeration, and unease coiled in his stomach._ _

___What if I screw this up again?_ _ _

__Lance brought up his free hand, facing his palm towards those in front of him. Keith would have scoffed if it wouldn’t have been for the fact that his method actually worked. The swarm was slowly but surely reduced to quiet murmurings and hums. Lance was possibly the most excitable person Keith knew, even when compared to some of his fans. So seeing him keep his cool when Keith couldn’t stay calm himself was more than a tad astonishing._ _

__Lance only spoke with silence. “There’s a rumor circulating that Keith and I are dating,” he said, rising a few whispers from the crowd. “Whether it’s because of our roles or reasons unrelated to our careers, the bottom line is that it’s _none of your business._ ” Retorts broke out, and like before, Lance didn’t respond until they ceased speaking. _ _

__Keith’s interlaced hand was brought up as Lance took up his own. Keith gave Lance a sideways look, but he wasn’t looking back._ _

__“And just for the record,” Lance went on. “Keith is my friend and colleague, and he’s here to support me because I had to deal with a family emergency. Feel free to read into it, but you’ll just look like a bunch of jackasses. Now if you’ll excuse us…”_ _

__Lance pushed past the crowd, Keith trailing behind him in awe. He had handled the situation with his out of the blue eloquence, Keith wondered where he learned to deal with reporters so well. He had been in the business longer than Lance, and yet confrontations with any news outlet threw his nerves on edge._ _

__“Not bad,” he told Lance, stopping in front of his bike._ _

__Lance released his hold, using both his hands to gesture to Keith’s motorcycle. “Not bad yourself, considering you survived your first night in the McClain household.”_ _

__“My _first_ night?” Keith repeated, grinning as he took hold of his helmet. He rolled his blue eyes, but didn’t hold back a smile he gave Keith, and the horrors of the past few days seemed to dull in that shine. _ _

__“Oh, shut up,” Lance snapped, but there was no bite to it—just an embarrassed, half-hidden smile. “And get your stupid scooter working so we can get out of here.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, nothing too big but if you guys were interested in other stuff ive written, i have two other fics out rn 
> 
> first one is this [Superhero/High School AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11308119/chapters/25305309) (called UnMasked) and it’s exactly what it sounds like... plus dorks flirting and making bad chemistry puns
> 
> and the other one is essentially a crack fic (called The Truth Comes Out) where all the Paladins drink truth serum and one of them accidentally confesses 
> 
> but yea that’s about it,  
> and if u weren’t interested in all that ^ i still hope u enjoyed this chapter!  
> have a chill rest of ur day/night/whatever :)


	9. embrace the gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saying it’s been a _long_ time is an understatement, and first of all i just wanted to apologize. i’ve been really stressed out with some stuff in my life lately, and i even took a break from writing for my mental health. but yeah i’m sorry it took so long to get this update out; i haven’t forgotten about you guys :)

“Oh wow, so you guys finally ‘practiced your lines’?” Pidge asked, using her fingers for quotations. Keith had been out of earshot when she spoke, parking his bike near his trailer. Lance had entirely forgotten about leaving the others at the bar. For all they knew, Lance had chased Keith off into the night, and then went radio silent. 

Lance frowned. “We didn’t—“ he then sighed, frustrated. “No! He just slept over at my fam’s place.” 

Pidge only rose a brow. Beside her, Hunk watched the interaction with mild but distracted amusement. “In your room?” she continued to question, faux innocent glazing her tone. Lance felt himself flush. 

“I—Pidge! I had a _family_ emergency!” he explained. Pidge’s grin morphed into a slight surprised look, her mouth opening to form a surprised ‘o.’ 

“Damn, Lance, I know you’re getting closer to Keith,” she started, completely throwing him off. “But considering him part of the family already?” He didn’t get the chance to retaliate. 

The voice was soft coming from behind Lance, but still made him jolt upright. “You consider me family?” Lance spun on his heels, eyes instantly taking in Keith’s wide, amazed look. 

“I, uh…” The concept of words was suddenly lost on him, his only option to try to avoid the looks from Keith, as well as Hunk and Pidge. Warmth suffused his face with color further, and Lance was desperate for a topic change. “Let’s go get food!” he yelped, neglecting the elevated pitch to his voice. “I’m fucking hungry.” 

No one had pushed the subject. Lance suspected that Pidge expected Keith to question him further, but Keith didn’t. He hadn’t even looked at Lance since they piled into Hunk’s car. Pidge was sitting shotgun fiddling with the GPS and Hunk driving, leaving the two of them in the back. They had unanimously decided it would be easiest to go to McDonald’s, which was only fifteen minutes off set. This way they could be back before filming started. 

_Not like Keith and I are needed,_ his mind reminded him. Varkon had set up their ‘klance’ film days later on in filming, so they would have the needed _bonding time._ Lance had no idea how the two of them were supposed to go from frenemies to making out on camera with ease with the little time they had. 

The ride over was short but enjoyable, the car’s engine in tune with Lance’s humming. Pidge was discussing an idea she had for one of her projects with Hunk but Lance’s mind wasn’t listening. In the back of the car, the lack of conversation was beginning to irk Lance, and his thoughts drifted to find a solution. 

“I forgot to ask,” he broke out, a memory coming to him. Keith turned to look at him. “Where did Z get that bruise? Not that I’m concerned for him or anything, I just want to give kudos to whoever decked him like that.” For the first few moments the words left his mouth, Lance was worried they were the wrong ones. Keith was staring at him, a strange expression dousing his face and blurring it unreadable. 

Then it cracked, and Keith snorted. He broke away to chuckle shortly to himself, and when he looked back, Lance read his features entertained. “Thanks.” 

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it hesitantly, wondering what he had missed. “What?” 

“I was the one who punched him,” he spoke matter-of-factly. Lance spent a moment wilting with shock, consequently shaking his head. 

“What?” he repeated. “No, you… you did?” 

Keith’s look turned smug, one side of his lips tilting upwards more than the other. “Why so surprised? You act like I don’t whoop your ass daily.” From the front, Lance heard Pidge snicker. An affronted flare of anger rose in his stomach, momentarily forgetting about his hunger. 

“You do not!” 

The ride felt even shorter than the four of them had anticipated. 

—

Keith still couldn’t get over Lance’s game earlier that morning, but from the looks of it, the memory had left Lance’s limbic system. Albeit entirely unfair, Lance had won the bet. 

_A bet I never agreed to,_ he thought churlishly. Even if he wasn’t going to admit defeat and succumb to his loser’s punishment, he was still going to get back at Lance. 

The McDonald’s was relatively empty, save for the clump of costumers towards the back and a few ordering food to go. The establishment looked relatively new; the floors freshly mopped and the walls crisp with paint. The piquant smell of fast food wafted through, reaching the doors, and the sound of cheap but addicting fries crackling in oil. 

The four of them were in line, Lance in front and asking each of them to “choose their poison.” Pidge had rolled her eyes at that, but Lance was quick to defend himself, declaring no one came to McDonald’s for healthy food. They were second in line when the idea struck, and a grin so evil pushed against his lips that Pidge caught his gaze, giving him a mystified stare. 

She tugged on his jacket, a silent plea for him to lean down for her to talk in his ear. “Keith, what’re you planning?” she whispered. 

“You’re going to want to record this,” he told her. Despite his vague response, Pidge hadn’t hesitated to bring out her phone, beginning to record almost within an instant. Lance finally stepped forward, about to reach the counter, when Keith took his chance. 

“Hey, Lance.” Lance turned at the sound of his name; by the time he saw Keith’s grin, it was too late. “The floor is lava.” 

As expected, Lance took a moment to register what Keith had said. Once he did, however, his slow blinking turned into a wide, horrified expression. “Keith, _no,_ ” he whispered, disbelief permeating his tone. Beside him, Pidge stayed silent, not understanding but persisted diligently recording. 

Keith’s grin widened. “Five,” the countdown had begun. He watched eagerly as Lance flipped out. 

“Keith! This can’t count—“

“Four.” 

Panic forced his gaze away from Keith’s, looking around with such distress that other customers had joined in to stare. In front of them, he heard the woman at the counter clear her throat loudly, calling out for the next person in line. 

Keith wasn’t going to show him any mercy. “Three.” 

With a final look to Keith, it clicked for Lance, whose gaze found its place. Throwing the counting boy a final, spiteful glance, he turned around and stepped up to the counter. Before the cashier could take his order, Lance hopped up onto the countertop. The woman screamed, and if people weren’t looking before, everyone was looking now. 

Laughter moved up Keith’s insides, tickling him into letting out a loud snigger. Pidge wasn’t far behind, chortling as the camera hid her face. Lance crouched down, and Keith couldn’t help but double up with laughter as Lance casually began ordering, not moving off the counter even as another worker hollered for the manager. It was the first time and last time in that particular McDonald’s, considering they were kicked out less than a minute later. 

It didn’t surprise anyone when Lance said he refused to go and eat with the three of them anymore. 

Lance’s declaration didn’t dissuade Pidge from announcing she was going to post the video. It didn’t dissuade their rumbling stomachs either, reminding them of their hunger. 

“Maybe we can get something back on set?” Hunk suggested. Food on set was always worth the wait; that is, if there was any left by the time you reached the front. Despite new batches of food being brought out, the main actors tended to have less time than the others, so if they didn’t rush to grab a bite to eat, they were better off not bothering. 

With that, they were on their way back, Keith, Pidge, and even Hunk still laughing over what had happened. Pidge replayed the video over and over again, much to Lance’s dismay, until they had gotten back on set. Both Hunk and Pidge went off; Pidge needed for a scene with Matt, and Hunk going off to find Shay. Before splitting up, they all agreed to wait until they all got a break.

Lance had pouted at that. Hunk was useful when it came to kitchen, whether it be literal cooking, or sweet talking the other chefs into letting Lance sneak food out before lunch. Keith watched it happen on a near day to day basis when they were shooting, and though Keith would roll his eyes, he never had the heart to rat him out. It was way more fun watching their antics anyway. 

When Pidge and Hunk strolled off and disappeared around the corner, the last direction Keith had imagined Lance heading was towards the kitchen, and yet, “Lance? Where are you going?” Looking over a broad shoulder, Lance responded with a small grin. 

Keith knew he wouldn’t get a straight response and sighed. 

Moving to land in step with Lance, he let Lance lead the way. “Sal is gonna chew you out if he sees you, you know,” Keith was kind enough to mention. Lance snorted. 

“Excuse you,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his puffed-out chest. “Sal loves me. I’m the reason he wears a ‘kiss the cook’ apron.” Keith rolled his eyes as they passed the clumps of chairs atop tables, still waiting to be laid out. The kitchen was just across the room, and Keith could already smell the melting pot of spicy cuisine. Every day Sal and his gang would prepare tons of food but specialize in one flavor or kind. It had become a source of entertainment after a while, to the point of bets being placed.

Keith was locked out of his own thoughts, a familiar tune shoving him out. He had given Lance a sideways look, his narrowing eyes locking on to Lance’s whistling lips. It was really getting to Keith now. He knew he had heard it from somewhere, and it annoyed him to no end that he couldn’t place it. Before he opened his mouth to ask, Lance had slowed to a stop and met his stare.

“I know I’m hot and everything, but can you be any more subtle?” Lance asked, the definition of smug written all over his face. Keith shot back a flat look. 

“That’s not why I was staring,” he argued. There was a moment’s pause; Keith wasn’t sure if he should ask his previous question, or bring up the fact that they had stopped in the center of the refectory. 

“Keith,” Lance started, his voice significantly quieter from a second ago. “What do you think?” 

“About what?” Keith asked, frowning. 

Lance seemed to shy away from the question at first, breaking his gaze to scope out the kitchen across the way, worrying his bottom lip. “Should we tell our fans to chill about the klance—purple—whatever stuff, or endorse it?” he paused to reel back in his brilliant blue eyes, refocusing them on Keith. “I wanted to ask when you weren’t around Varkon or…” Lance trailed off, shooting waves of expectancy towards him. 

_My manager._ He didn’t even want to think his name. There was no way Lance knew what was going on between Keith and Z, but it didn’t take a genius to sense the tension. Everyone on set knew Keith never got along with his manager, but no one questioned it—it was none of their business, and it wasn’t affecting filming, so there was no reason to.

Keith was at a loss for ideas. He had to cater to his audience, he knew that longer than any city he had ever stayed in—which, admittedly, wasn’t saying much. Though if there was anything hard-wired in his brain, it was that. Z made sure to be a constant, ineluctable reminder that without his audience, not only would he lack his acting career, he would have never gotten the chance to escape the foster system so early. The truth sucked but it wasn’t something he was going to avoid. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping under the confession. He looked to the floor. “I mean, I feel like the line between the show and reality—between klance and purple—is gonna be blurred. If we really do this, Lance, we have to set clear boundaries… because our characters are basically carbon copies of ourselves, and we don’t want to confuse our fans.” 

From his peripheral vision, Keith watched Lance shrug, the epitome of nonchalance as Keith overthought the situation. “Well, yeah, the characters _are_ based on us.” The two were dipped in silence, leaving Keith to suffocate in worry. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why Lance thought this was a good idea. Throughout his career, Keith was pushed to avoid any roles that involved relationships between other actors. This way, he wouldn’t be put into a problematic state of affairs that he was in now. 

“Okay,” Lance spoke, his tone no longer quiet or sheepish. “I got it.” Keith looked up in time with Lance drawing out his phone from his pocket. 

“Yeah?” he asked, not meaning to sound as unsure as he did. “Okay, what’s the plan?” 

A smirk pressed up against Lance’s lips, a look Keith came to know as an indicative of bad behavior. “You’ll see,” Lance crooned. The response set off an alarm in Keith, his own features dipping to oppose Lance’s. 

Lance didn’t step away from him to shield his phone or give himself privacy. If anything, he stepped closer, exposing his screen as his thumb pressed down on one of the apps. Instragram opened, and before his home page had the chance to load, he had pressed down on to open the camera. With another tap, the camera was flipped and Keith saw himself glaring at the camera beside Lance. He was still grinning, Keith noticed, but grew mushy and slanted. 

_He looks like a dork,_ Keith thought with amusement, his glare dissipating slightly. 

Lance held down the button and the camera began recording. “Hey guys, I got mullet here with me because we wanted to talk about something important. Something that’s being brought up more and more lately—especially after that leaked pic.” Keith watched himself frown, and rather than stare at Lance’s profile, he kept his questioning gaze on the camera. “So about the question you’ve all been asking for a while now, are Keith and I dating?” 

Keith almost choked, his dry throat stopping him. Yet Lance just kept on, as if they had discussed this and reached a mutual agreement. In reality, Lance had done the equivalent of throwing him in a hole, burying him, and then asking him to claw his own way out. Keith felt himself running out of air. His lips wanted to move, form words to express his distress, but they remained pressed into a thin line against his wishes. 

Naturally, Lance doesn’t notice. Dark eyes glued to the two bodies on the screen, Keith watched absently as Lance turn his head to face him, now ignoring the camera. Before Keith could turn, perhaps yelling a polite ‘what the fuck,’ a soft, fleeting pressure spreads across his cheek. Keith’s body freezes over, save for the spot—his mind slowly clicks together to realize—he had been kissed. The heat doesn’t follow after, and unlike a gradual thawing, his face ignites so fast he wonders if melting through the floor was a possibility. 

“L— _Lance!_ ” Keith yelped, his voice working, but cracking to show its disapproval of use. When his eyes fly from the camera to share a shocked look with Lance, Lance had already turned back to the camera. Keith was left to deal with the bombshell’s aftermath all alone. The boy in front of him wasn’t affected, still wearing a huge, movie star smile. It was as if it hadn’t happened, a mandela effect that Keith experienced. 

“Nope,” Lance told the camera, stopping the video. Keith didn’t grasp that Lance’s response was the answer to the question until slim, tan fingers had finished typing out a caption. Each letter was an insignificant blur from the corner of Keith’s eyes. Lance was the center of his vision, tapping away for another second or so before meeting his stare. 

As their gazes connected, Lance’s smile faltered. “Keith, you okay?” he gave a nervous chuckle, putting his phone away. “I know I caught you a bit off guard but—“

Keith finally found his voice. “Jesus. A _bit_?” he lets out a shaky laugh himself, carding a hand through his hair. 

“Well, we were gonna have to do it eventually, right?” Lance asked, his smile adopting a sheepish tilt. Keith wanted to argue but also wanted to shrivel away for a chance to recover. The worst part was that Keith understood Lance’s logic, and he didn’t want to. This wasn’t supposed to make sense. A part of him was screaming to demand Lance to take down the video, even if it was meant as a joke, because he couldn’t risk something like this. Albeit he abhorred his manager, Z was right. He needed to be careful, and Lance was making him slip up, slowly but surely unraveling everything he had tried to bundle up for years. 

“Oh, yeah, by the way,” Lance pressed on in Keith’s silence, shooting him a grin. “I’m doing a lifestream later, you know, to see the reactions. You should join.” He paused, waiting for Keith to respond and receiving nothing. The quiet seemed to hamper Lance, the conversation growing stilted. “Or, or not. You don’t have to.”

Keith didn’t have to worry about being sent back to some children’s home if he lost his job anymore—he hadn’t worried about that for years. He was an adult. Despite the fact, he felt even less in control of his life than when he was pushed and tossed around as a child. The idea of unemployment because of who he was, having the world hate him and wanting to dress him up to be the perfect, model actor they thought he was horrified him to where he wished he was the same lost, lonely child he was years ago. 

Yet, the boy in front of him simplified all his problems into a simple solution every single time. Maybe Keith was beginning to get too hopeful, but he wanted to believe Lance could help. Lance still smiled, howbeit timidly, in waiting, and the desire to appease Lance’s unease overcame the dark, spiteful whispers in his mind. 

“Okay,” Keith said plainly. Lance lit up at the verbal confirmation, his real smile returning.

“Okay?” he parroted. “Really?” Traces of discernible hope was laced between his words and Keith couldn’t help but find it oddly endearing. Keith rolled his eyes, but broke out into a small smile as he nodded. “All right, well, I’m gonna see if I can sneak some food before we do. Wanna help?” 

“Help by being your scapegoat?” Keith supplied, raising a brow. He knew how this worked. “No thanks.” Lance cursed under his breath, still smiling even after he was caught red-handed. 

“Psh, whatever,” Lance scoffed, walking towards the kitchen. “I’m better off sneaking without your dumb haircut attracting everyone’s attention! They’d all yell at you to wear a hairnet, you know!”   
“Why is it always the hair?” he muttered, but Lance was too far to hear him. Now alone, Keith looked around, feeling oddly out of place. He sighed. The action gave him a moment’s relief before his phone buzzed, and Keith hesitantly took out his phone. The name he had given Shiro flashed cross the screen. 

**Shirhoe:** I’m with Allura and she showed me Lance’s post. Congratulations on landing a guy!

 _Already?_ Keith groaned out a long, frustrated sound. Of course Shiro was going to make fun of him for it too. He never meant any harm by it; he only wanted to bother Keith. 

It was working. 

**Keith:** i swear to god, shiro. YOU KNOW WE’RE DOING THIS FOR THE SHOW

 **Shirhoe:** If I heard right, you actually switched Nyma for Lance, out of all people.

 **Shirhoe:** ;) 

**Keith:** i hate you.

Keith pressed out to the home screen, his hand hovering. With a resigned sigh, Keith opened the app, bombarded with likes, comments, and oh so many tags. Keith scrolled until he found Lance’s post—which really, didn’t require much scrolling. He watched the screen, phone muted, as Lance’s curled lips moved, no noise escaping them. Then Lance turned. Keith watched his flat, almost glaring expression get blown wide, his cheeks flushing as Lance’s lips left his skin. 

“Oh god,” Keith grumbled. “This is on the internet forever now…” Not able to watch the video through a second time, Keith looked down at the caption. 

_we joke around a lot, and love all of u guys, but this is really smth we needed to talk about. even if the answer is yes, u should respect our privacy and wait for us to come out publicly. but since you asked…_ He even tagged klance, as well as purple. 

Keith was about to read the comments—which, wow, was already in thousands—when his phone buzzed. A single-lettered contact filled the screen. His manager was calling him.

Horror inserted itself under his skin as if inserted by a syringe, shooting a shivering trill through him and down to the floor. He hadn’t even thought about what Z would say. Varkon hadn’t told them to stay on the low about it; their contracts emphasized they weren’t supposed to spoil anything about their show, but if they pretended it was them dating, and not practice for their scenes, they wouldn’t violate their contracts. After the leaked photos, this was the best way to cover up anything about the new season.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. Z started talking instantly, his tone frosted cold at the edges. “Keith, one of my assistants showed me a very interesting post,” his manager told him. 

Keith returned the tone. “So?” 

“ _So?_ ” he sounded incredulous now. “So what will people think?”

Keith didn’t want to admit it, but he winced. He was cornered. There was always rumors of how demanding and challenging acting was, but none of them knew half of it. The sleepless nights of pushing through scenes, the memorization, and dealing with forceful directors and an annoyed cosmetics crew who berated anyone for smudging makeup was nothing. The stress of not being able to be himself, to play a character that wasn’t himself both on and off set, got to him more than anything else about acting ever could. Some days the pressure was so suffocating that Keith would lock himself in his trailer during breaks, wanting to get away from the hollow capsule he felt himself becoming. 

“I… I mean,” Keith frowned as he began to mindlessly pace the empty room. “If people don’t support it, why is the ship such a big deal? It’s been the most popular thing since the show started so—“

“Support of the possibility of something is different then when it comes to life. There will be people, I’m sure a large majority, who aren’t satisfied and will take it out on both you and the show,” he countered. “And I meant with the people who matter, Keith.”

Keith gave himself a minute to gawk silently at his words, in complete disbelief. “My _fans_ do matter,” he growled back. 

“What about the critics? Or others looking for the right actor for the next big thing?” Keith grit his teeth, trying to distract himself from the rising, nauseating anger in his stomach. His eyes had left the floor for a moment, long enough to realize he had left the refectory and was wandering down a hall. It was empty, save for two interns walking side by side, shooting Keith hidden looks of amateurs, carrying trays of coffee. They were long past when Z continued. “You’re only relevant as long as you’re in front of a camera, and if they learn about your problem—“

Keith snapped, his dull nails digging into the metal of his phone. Z probably would have questioned the sharp, clawing sounds, if they weren’t blocked out by Keith’s succeeding words. “Being gay is _not_ a problem.” 

His manager paused thoughtfully. It was such a long pause Keith thought he was finally successful in changing Z’s mind when he spoke up again. “If it’s not a problem, why did you let it affect your role with that female actress? You were uncomfortable and made a big deal out of such a little thing so you’d be with that boy, Lance. It’s affecting your career and making everything much more complicated. Directors don’t like complicated. Now if you could just change—“ 

Keith didn’t hold back as his chest heaved and he let out a long, derisive laugh, cutting him off. “Change?” he huffed. “Because being gay is a choice, right?” His felt his grip tightened around the phone, his free hand digging past the fabric of his pants and into his skin. The anger evolved, budding into something much more dangerous and impulsive, and spreading from his gut to flatten over him entirely. 

“You know what? You’re right, I do have a choice,” Keith said with a dark grin. “And I’m choosing to hang up.” With that, he followed through on his declaration, then switched to instagram. He walked back slowly but with definite steps, a plan formulating in his mind. As Keith had hoped, Lance had started streaming. 

First, Keith went to twitter and typed out what he needed from his fans, then made a blank post on instagram, both of which telling his followers to join Lance’s stream. Keith wasn’t just going to get payback for the unfair trick Lance pulled back at his house as well as the peck on the cheek. He was finally giving in to his loser’s penalty. Having finished all that he needed to do, he returned his phone to his pocket and rounded on the refectory. 

Lance didn’t notice Keith when he entered his room, even though he was facing him. From what Keith could see, he hadn’t gotten any food. His playful, blue eyes were on his phone, which was held out arms length away from him, and facing more of his profile than anything else. He wore a wistful look and Keith couldn’t help but speculate about what Lance was saying to his fans. 

Keith felt a calm sense of acceptance wash over him as he conceded to the plan. He was doing this, he couldn’t back down now. His feet took him to Lance, who was in the center of the room, having pushed aside some of the chairs. He hadn’t moved the chairs to sit on them, but rather, so he could sit on the table. Keith almost laughed when he noticed Lance was manspreading—he was making Keith’s job so easy. 

He was a foot away when Lance saw him. Surprise spread over his features, followed by a smile and a turn of the camera. Keith didn’t stop or slow down his stride and, in fact, sped up. Confusion bubbled up in deep blue, then narrowed, his features contorting to match his perplexity. His hand was still held out, frozen in his grip and camera now back on Lance. Keith wasn’t sure if it the move was intentional, but was glad the camera’s focus was on his target. He wanted as many people to see this as possible. 

The moment Keith entered Lance’s bubble, his gloved hands shot out and grabbed bundles of the front of his jacket. “Keith, w—“ He wasn’t going to let Lance finish. Without letting himself stall or acknowledge the rapid barrage of beating against his ribs, Keith forcibly tugged Lance to the edge of the table, pushing their bodies flush against each other. He kept a watchful eye on the camera from his peripheral, which Lance hadn’t dropped. Yet. He couldn’t be slow. 

Freeing a hand, Keith grabbed Lance’s jaw and tilted it up. Keith tilted his own head to the right as he met Lance halfway, closing his eyes as their lips connected roughly. Lance’s lips were parted, his words lost entirely. A soft, surprised noise escaped from Lance’s throat and a blink of regret hit him—Lance wasn’t kissing back. Keith almost pulled away then; the fear of embarrassment reminding him all that could go wrong. 

_Everything. This was a bad idea. Why did I think this would be a good idea? And live? Fuck._

The determined spark vanished under the sudden wave of anxiety, and Keith began to step back, when Lance’s free hand pressed against his lower back, bringing him impossibly closer. The situation seemed to click for Lance and his body relaxed. He moved his head to fit better with Keith’s lips before pushing back against Keith, slotting them together more comfortably. Keith hadn’t heard Lance’s phone drop, which was a good sign. 

Heat was starting to form in the pit of his stomach, a dangerous inhibitor. Lance was growing more ardent, his lips moving with more persistence and force, a silent challenge. Though Keith had done what he had come to do, he wasn’t going to stop there. He brought his other hand to the back of Lance’s neck, sliding it up until it was buried in short, silky strands of hair. His fingers grasped what they could, and Keith tugged hard. Lance gasped, his mouth parting and giving Keith the opening he wanted. 

Then Keith froze. Lance didn’t seem to care, for it was just a moment of hesitation, long enough only for Lance to move his hand lower than Keith’s lower back. They were still on camera, and continuing was much more dangerous, despite the intense warmth telling him otherwise. He wasn’t just going to pull away though. 

Keith broke the kiss, using his hand to keep Lance’s jaw steady as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. He made sure their audience could see, but not hear. “Like you said, we were gonna have to do it eventually, right?” he drew back, smirking at a wide-eyed, flushed mess. Magically, from the corner of his eye, the camera had stayed in the same position, giving the perfect angle. 

Keith pulled away completely, taking a few steps backward. For the icing on the cake, Keith finger gunned at Lance before turning around and walking away. His own cheeks were in flames but it had been worth it. He couldn’t choose whether or not he was gay—Z had been wrong there—but Keith could choose whether or not to embrace it. So if Keith got the chance to accept that part of himself for just a while, which Lance had generously given him, Keith would take it every time. It wasn’t about if their fans thought it was real or not; when the upcoming season was finally released, Lance and Keith would stop, and their audience would finally know the truth about their staged relationship. 

They were actors; making scripts come to life and seem like a reality was their entire job description. If Keith couldn’t handle a little acting—if _Z_ couldn’t handle a little acting—he didn’t deserve to be on set. When it came down to it, it’s not like this meant anything. 

It was just acting after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unproblematic content who? i’ve never met her


	10. We Hate Keith Club 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohoho, we are indeed back my friends, and gayer than ever

“Oh my god,” Lance whispered loudly after Keith was long gone. “He _finger gunned_ me. Guys, _he finger gunned me_.” He was gaping at the empty space Keith had been when had sent him the legendary gesture, staring blankly for who knows how long. 

The camera was on, still streaming live, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to care. His cheeks were searing, his mind turning slowly to compensate for the lightning fast replay of deliberate, soft lips pressed against his own. He let out a shaky laugh, running a free hand through his hair before glancing over at his phone. 

Lance hadn’t thought much of the heavily increased views; he had guessed he’d gotten lucky with timing. The constant, screaming flow of comments came and left his sight without him really acknowledging them, like passing cars on a highway. His focus was elsewhere. Specifically, it was being onslaught by the sudden understanding of Keith’s actions. 

_He set me up._

Lance was a popular guy, especially on social media, so he took the views with a grain of salt, but this was a different situation. Never before had there been this many people watching just to hear Lance blather about life on set. He needed to test a theory. 

“I, uh—t-thanks for tuning in but I-I gotta go, uhm, bye,” he stammered, ending the stream with a shaky hand. Taking a moment to close his eyes and breathe, Lance then pushed himself off the table, nearly tripping as it wobbled under his weight. He put himself to work. 

Fingers maneuvering through multiple apps, searching for the catalyst in question, Lance found himself on twitter. Keith didn’t use social media often, and when he did, it was for the purpose of cryptid hunting or calling people—Lance—out on their bullshit. 

_I was right._

Keith had planned the whole scene; he _wanted_ everyone to see. He was making a statement, statement that had left Lance a flushed, stuttering mess. 

Yet Lance couldn’t bring himself to care. 

His heart was a quivering, giddy jumble, blood pounding in his ears, and Lance could only ask for more. Lance had started games with Keith before, enabling him to tease and mock Keith under the guise of their rivalry. It gave him the opportunity to interact with Keith.

But now Keith was the one who started it. 

And Lance was more than willing to play ball. 

Even if it was all fun and games. 

—

Keith tripped over himself the moment he left the refectory. It was silent way down, so he hadn’t worried about Lance coming after him. His face was still burning despite the heavily cool airflow. It didn’t matter where he was, really; even Antarctica wouldn’t be enough to cool him down. 

He stumbled back up and down the hall, fumbling for his phone. 

Keith was one inch away from a heart attack, his finger almost slipping enough to call his manager. Thankfully, he had pressed down on the intended contact. It rang twice before the line connected. 

“Keith?” asked Shiro, sounding rightfully concerned. “Are you okay? Aren’t you with the others?” Shiro had gotten a day off, using the free time—from how gruff he sounded—to sleep in. Keith couldn’t blame him; he hadn’t gotten a good night of rest for ages. 

“I was hanging out with Lance, Hunk and Pidge had a scene,” he explained. Shiro made a tired but encouraging noise, urging Keith to go on. Keith cut to the chase, wanting to let his brother sleep until his next shift. “I kissed Lance.” 

He heard Shiro choke on the end of the line. “ _What?_ ” 

“I kissed Lance,” he repeated, feeling lighter than air. It was probably because all the blood was rushing to his cheeks instead of his head. He had to stop, pressing a hand to the nearest wall to anchor himself. “Oh god, Shiro, what did I just do?” 

Shiro huffed, a sound mixed between a lighthearted laugh and a concerned dad noise. “Was it out of the blue?” he asked. The mention of blue made him flinch. “Or was it preparation for the show?”

“We were just practicing,” Keith told him, frowning as he paused. “I think…”

“You _think_?” Shiro echoed. _Oh no,_ he was bringing in his disapproving dad tone. “Keith…”

“I know, I know!” Keith waved his free hand aimlessly in the air, frustrated. “I just—I acted on impulsive, okay! He’s always just so full of himself and I wanted to show him up and then I finally got the chance to wipe that smirk off his face and it just—I was—I…” he admitted, trailing off in hesitance. 

“You enjoyed it?” Shiro supplied. Keith could hear him grin. 

“Shut up,” he hissed, flushing. “I just don’t know what to do, so… so I called you.” 

“Okay, but first, do you like the kissing, or do you like Lance?” asked Shiro. Keith’s irregular heartbeat halted altogether, his breathing coming out as shallow gasps.

“No!” he shouted. Regretting raising his voice, he quickly glanced around. He was still alone.

“So you didn’t like the kissing?” Shiro clarified. 

“What? No! I-I mean, yes, I did, but—“

“You don’t like Lance?” 

Keith let out the most irked groan he could muster. “I didn’t _say_ that!” he shot back. “I mean, I don’t hate him but I most certainly do not _like_ him!” His fingers ran through his hair, clawing along his scalp as he tried to explain himself. “I just like—I… what if he hates me now? What if I fucked up, Shiro? He’d never stop teasing me after that…” The last sentence came out weak, faltering like Keith did while standing. 

Amidst Keith’s mental breakdown, Shiro chuckled softly. “Talk to him,” he said. Keith wanted to fight back, wanted to argue about how impossible it was when those blue eyes stared him down, switching between emotions so fast Keith was sure to get whiplash. 

The voice that came in was faded, someone speaking in the background. “Shiro, honey, who’s that?” She had a recognizable accent. 

Keith’s first instinct was to freeze, hearing his brother hush someone on the other line as a devious grin came about his face. “Oh, wow, Shiro, you didn’t tell me you had _company_. Was that Allura I heard?” 

“No,” Shiro rushed to counter, and Keith knew he was right. 

“I should go,” Keith replied, taking his time to respond. “I’ll leave you two alone so I can _talk_ with Lance.” 

“Don’t talk with your tongue until you’re actually done talking, Keith!” 

Despite understanding what Shiro had meant, he continued to mock his brother. “How am I supposed to enunciate my every word and sound without my tongue, dear brother?” He couldn’t stop grinning. 

“Oh, god, Keith,” he heard Shiro say, distanced from the phone’s transmitter. The sound shuffling of covers overtook Shiro’s mumbling, 

“You’re so right, I should go _right now_ so I can find Lance as soon as possible. Thanks for the advice,” Keith agreed, taking the phone away from his ear. Snickering at Shiro’s muted protests, Keith said a final goodbye and hung up. Feeling much more in control of his emotions, Keith pocketed the device and went to find Lance. 

—

When Keith had finally found Lance it wasn’t in the dining hall or on set. One of the crew members had to inform him he was in makeup, getting ready for an interview. Keith didn’t know whether to groan or panic at the idea of dealing with more reporters. 

With a proper location in mind, it was a breeze finding Lance. It hadn’t taken long to find him sitting in a highchair in the cosmetics trailer. A dolled up woman stood behind him, laughing as she adjusted his hair. Keith was familiar with her since she occasionally did his makeup, though they never spoke. She had not even smiled in his direction. The way Lance swam through conversations like the swimmer he was seemed improbable to Keith. Especially when all he could do was sink. 

Blue eyes flickered up in the mirror, Lance’s reflection looking up at him. He smiled. “Keith, good timing! C’mere,” he told him, motioning Keith to come closer with the flick of two fingers. 

Keith obliged. “Lance, we need t—“

“To go,” Lance wrongly finished, standing up. “I know.” 

Before Keith could correct him, he was being dragged along outside the trailer and across the lot to an adjacent corporate building. They needed to talk, but Keith didn’t know where to start. He ended up staying quiet until they arrived. The reporters had their equipment set up, creating a semi-circle enclosing two leather armchairs. Scattered muttering burst out into loud questioning the moment they walked through the door. 

They resembled children in his eyes, more impatient than the fleeting homes he grew up in. At least back then they ignored him rather than question his every move. Just like paparazzi, just with more added shouting. 

Keith pressed himself to Lance’s side, trying to talk to Lance over the noise. “Hey, seriously, we need to talk about this,” he whispered in hopes only Lance would hear.

“I know,” he replied, shrugging off questions as they went up to the awaiting seats. “It’s why we’re doing this interview.” Keith frowned. That’s not what he meant. 

It wasn’t the public that was the issue right now, it was what was happening between them. Borders didn’t just need to be formed to keep ardent fans and judgmental news sources off his back. Keith needed to define this. He knew other actors kept it casual without needing to acknowledge it, but Keith would go insane if they didn’t orally admit this would mean nothing. 

He needed validation. 

This wasn’t something Keith wanted to talk about in front of a crowd. Despite this, he continued to let Lance drag him along, up until the duo sat down, each taking an armchair facing the crowd. 

“Mr. McClain and Mr. Kogane, it’s a pleasure meeting you,” the apparent interviewer speaks up. She holds a microphone aimed out to the actors, a formal vest and pencil skirt for attire. Her back remains undeniably straight, even as she leans in for better audio. 

Lance sported a grin, sending the reporter a wink. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he returned. 

Eyes rolling again, Keith looked to the edge of the congregation of people in distaste. Apathy dulled his senses, his attention drawing to anywhere else until this was over. Lance could amuse the reports while Keith dutifully ignored the cameras and mics being shoved in his direction. 

“We had questions arranged, but after Lance’s recent lifestream… we decided to change last minute.” A spike of shock run down Keith’s spine, regaining his fading attention. He turned as she spoke again. “So, really, what did that kiss mean?” 

Keith looked from the woman to Lance, who was reclining in his seat. One of his legs bobbed comfortably, but other than that, he wasn’t experiencing nearly the same reaction. Keith watched as he opened his big, dumb mouth to speak, and Keith knew he’d have to beat him to the punch. 

_What’s he planning on saying?_

He didn’t have time to ponder; there weren’t any more risks left to take. Chances were he was already gonna get chewed out by Z the next time he saw him. 

“It means Lance is a bad kisser,” he blurts. Keith felt himself deflate into his chair, though not because of relief. 

His eyes flicker over to gauge Lance’s reaction, resulting in Keith having to choke back a laugh. The boy had taken to offense, expression blown wide and affronted. There’s a lot of giggling, primarily from the camera crew. Keith keeps his gaze on the reporter, who simply looks surprised. 

_At least I distracted them…?_

“Oh, _I’m_ a bad kisser?” growled Lance. Keith refuses to turn his head, not liking where this was going. Those watching gasped and whispered and ‘ooo’ed as they listened, mimicking the sounds Shiro and Allura made when he visited and the two were watching some ridiculous sitcom. 

“Yes.” Keith didn’t want to engage. He was trying to _avoid_ starting something, especially on camera. It was no help that it seemed like Keith was baiting him. 

“Keith.” 

All sound from the reporters go silent, a black-and-white movie that drained the color from Keith’s face. There’s someone standing, then footsteps edging closer until he’s being dragged up out of his chair by one hand. 

Lips lock with his, pressure forcing his to open as he gasps. Keith’s eyes instinctively close, but not soon enough to fail to see Lance kiss him. He raises his own hands, intending to push Lance and his broad shoulders away. Lance took advantage of Keith’s daze, his tongue darting out across Keith’s lower lip. He let out another, involuntary gasp. 

It doesn’t last as long as Keith would like, but long enough to leave him fighting for air. When Lance lets go, pulling away, Keith’s head is swirling so fast he forgets Lance was the only thing holding him up. He collapses back into his seat, looking like a beat tomato. His red ears don’t pick up on the wolf whistles and boisterous cheering. 

His heart wanted to swell up in delirious glee, but instead it shrunk without relief. They weren’t doing this because they approved, they were doing this because it would help ratings. Everyone enjoyed scandals, especially when they were about couples. 

They didn’t care about the people behind them. 

Lance spots a victorious, casual grin as he returns to his seat. Turning to the onslaught of cameras, he spoke with delight. “I am a _great_ kisser. Thank you.” 

“Keith,” the reporter said. “It looks like you enjoyed that.” He’s about to respond because, _Holy fuck—damn_ right _I did_.

He nearly says it, too, when an arm tugs him out of the armchair so forcefully he almost falls to the floor. Keith stumbles, looking about, preparing to snap at the reporter who grabbed him. His face falls when he realizes it’s not a stranger who has grabbed him. 

“This interview is over,” Zarkon tugged Keith even closer. “If you want more information about the upcoming season or the actors’ personal lives, you’re free to ask anyone but Mr. Kogane. My client is a very busy man.”

Keith can’t fight as he’s dragged away, his head still swimming and he’s mind too confused to react. “What?” he mutters. In a futile attempt he tries to pull away, only to wince as Z’s grip around his forearm tightened. “What are you doing? Where are we going?” 

Zarkon waits until they’re outside to respond. He continues to drag Keith along, only stopping once they come upon a familiar black regera car. He never understood his manager’s pretentious taste. “You don’t have any scenes today. Just practice—which I don’t think you need any more of.” He nodded down to the vehicle. “Now get in the car.” 

Keith tore his arm away, taking a few good steps back. “Why?” he spat. 

“Get in the damn car,” he demands, drawing out each word. 

It takes a long minute of cold glares between them before Keith finally relents, getting in the car. It takes several more long minutes in the car for them to get to their destination. Neither of them talk on the way there. Rather than facing shouts and his manager’s violent scolding, an eerie feeling took hold inside him within the silence. 

They were at his old prison—one he had long since grow out of just to end up trapped in a bigger one. It was a good-sized orphanage, owned by a woman who had no right to be anywhere near children. He knew she still worked there too. 

As his manager led him past the brick walls and into the newly renovated interior, she would give a respectful nod. Penelope always hid her eyes, however, because despite how much he had given to the establishment she could never lose hold of the hate she held for a certain dark-haired boy. 

He had given them so much—all the money he made and could provide, leaving himself just enough to get by. Z was always disappointed that he did it all anonymously, only mentioning it to those he knew could get Keith a good role. Keith put up with it because it meant he could give more to them.

Keith was adamant on visiting the children as often as he could. Having grown up in the same hell, he never wanted them to experience the kind of things he had to face himself. Or at least, not alone. They all deserved more than that. 

Kids hopped off their beds and up from the floors when Keith passed the foyer, all rushing to huddle around him and consequently, Z. A few hug his legs, crowding around him in a way that never made him feel uncomfortable. Children were nothing like adults, always open with their exuberance and pure intentions. It was a nice change. 

They were nothing like him, and he was glad. 

The little ones continued to swarm, shooting off questions rapid-fire with excitement. Keith hunkered down so they didn’t have to crane their necks to see him. He hadn’t seen their hopeful, chubby faces in days. Arik, a blond boy tall for kids his age, stepped up. “We didn’t know you were coming!” he acclaimed. 

Another child, Valerie, was a petite girl with round glasses. She reminded him of Pidge. “Why did you come?” she asked, her tone nothing if not polite. “Weren’t you planning on coming later this week?” 

Keith turned to look up at Z from his crouch. “That’s a good question,” he said. Narrowing his eyes, he waited a response. His manager didn’t respond, staring at him wordlessly.

“Keef!” one of the youngest yelled. The group parted as he waddled past, coming up to him. Arthur wielded crutches, and unlike where Keith grew up, disabilities were treated with sympathy and understanding here. “Will you come play with us?” 

Keith smiled. “Of course.” 

It was only between a very challenging game of chess with Val and an art class with the younger ones that Z answered his question. He had leaned in, his whisper harsh and grating. 

“You know, you may lose not lose anything if you keep doing what you’re doing, but _they_ will,” he motioned to the kids running around, eager to interact with their prized red hero. “Giving in to your selfish desires will cause all these kids to suffer, just like you did. Now do you really want that? You still have a chance to back out—to fix this. To save _them_.” 

Keith had been tugged away by the two eldest before he could respond.

He was horrified.

—

“He’s such a—a dick!” Lance yelled, plopping his elbows onto his knees. He groaned in frustration. Hunk and Pidge didn’t seem to share his sentiments. 

“Yes, yes, we know,” Hunk hummed, patting his friend with a condescending palm. “You _hate_ Keith, you made a club because of it, yet we all know how hard you’re pining—“

“What?” Lance choked. “No, no, I was talking about Z!” He lifted an arm to smack Hunk weakly. “I don’t understand how Keith puts up with him!”

“Matt is always talking to Shiro and probably knows a lot more than we think, but when I talk to him he’ll only say that ‘it’s a delicate subject’,” Hunk said. “And Shiro gets all ‘disapproving dad’ when I try.” Pidge made a small, annoyed sound across the break room’s mini kitchen. 

Lance turned to look at the girl huddled up in her chair, typing away on her computer. She had been friends with him longest, second to Shiro. The two had gotten along swimmingly; both loved caffeine, hated early morning takes, and hated small talk even more. If anyone would know, she would. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Pidge was one step ahead. “No, Lance,” she told him, shaking her head. “It’s not for me to say.” 

Lance breathed out an exasperated groan. “Okay, fine, whatever, don’t tell me,” he responded. “But we’re doing something for him when he escapes Z.” 

Pidge stopped typing, turning in her seat to face him. “What do you have in mind?” 

His mind jumped back to earlier in the conversation, a conspiratorial smirk budding on his face. “I think it’s time we bring back We Hate Keith Club.” 

—

It was late.

Z had dropped him off at his trailer a few hours later. The sun was falling under the horizon, and the set was shrouded in fading golden light. The silence was more welcoming in the parking lot than stuck in that sleek, god forsaken car. As the wheels of the million dollar vehicle peeled across the concrete, Keith was left alone. 

Mental exhaustion pressed to his bones, tugging him down and making him want to drop. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair where rainbow glitter still resided. Seeing remnants stick to his hand brought a grimace to his face. 

_This isn’t just about me anymore._

He clambered up the steps, throwing open the door. The lights turned on without him being anywhere near the switch. His eyes were bombarded with light and colors and bodies, causing him to nearly trip back off the metal staircase.

Vibrant confetti was shot and thrown across the room, a hand reaching out to pull Keith in. Still immensely confused, his eyes scanned the room for answers. The first thing they were caught on was a giant banner that spanned the back wall just feet away, sporting the words ‘We Hate Keith Club 2.0’ in red letters. 

Everyone he cared about was packed into the room—from Shiro, Allura, Pidge and Hunk, to Matt and Shay and even Coran. Soft and enjoyable music had started playing, and his friends were smiling, greeting him and welcoming him back. 

Allura gave him a quick nod, holding a glass of wine— _Where did she get that_? —before turning to her lover. He couldn’t help but notice the small umbrella in it, that had Lance’s face printed on it. Matt and Pidge waved at him, as well as Shay, who all seemed too involved in conversation for verbal welcomes.

Keith was still very, very confused.

He only noticed the hand on his arm was Lance’s once he pulled back, giving him a sheepish smile. “Hey, uh, welcome back,” he muttered as everyone went back to their respective conversations. “Thought you deserved a party after dealing with the Devil.” 

Keith let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, I’d say the banner’s my favorite touch,” he said, pointing at the back wall. 

“I’m glad,” Lance replied, his smile becoming full. “It’s mine too—the me merchandise being a close second.” He swished a martini, showing off the three green olives impaled by a single Lance umbrella. 

Keith snorted. “ _So_ extra,” he muttered, turning around to shut the door. 

“Even better is that you have to find all of them,” said Lance. Keith turned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Lance raised a hand in surrender. “Wait, trust me. It’s like Easter, and I’ll even tell you there’s five eggs in all,” he elaborated. “And I’ll make it worth your while.” He wiggled his brows, moving towards a less crowded part of the trailer. 

Keith didn’t let up. “How?” 

“We’ll make a bet,” he concluded. “If you can’t find all five eggs in the trailer by the end of the party, I win. And I’ll be nice and tell you in advance what you’re gonna have to do once you lose—you have to verbally admit I’m a good kisser.” A devious glint played across his amused look. 

Keith ignored the anxious feeling his gut had begun marinating in. “And what do I get if I win?” 

Lance shrugged, taking a sip of his drink before putting it down. Hunk gave him a dirty look when he didn’t put it on a coaster. “Whatever you want,” he answered, nonchalant. 

There was no way he meant that. “Seriously?” Even Lance wasn’t that cocky.

“Sure,” he replied, sounding more bored than someone waiting in the line at the DMV. Lance was looking at him again, smirking. “It’s not like you’ll win.” 

Keith had no doubt Lance wouldn’t take it easy on him. This was going to be a hell of a challenge on its own—and Keith was already exhausted. It didn’t help that a new spur of confidence was coming off Lance in heavy waves. He didn’t believe Keith could actually do it. 

“Fine. You’re on.”

Keith found the first two eggs in under two minutes, one of which was weaved into Allura’s braided hair. The only reason he had caught the colorful egg was because she wouldn’t stop playing with it, from twirling the ends in her fingers to throwing it over her shoulders. She had never been one to show off, especially in such trivial things like hair. 

Lance made an appalled noise when Keith had voiced his reasoning. _”I know you don’t care about your hair but some of us have standards, mullet!”_ he had said. 

The third one was in a place Lance never thought he’d look. He was almost right. Pidge had brought her computer along, typing as she chipped in witty commentary to her brother. It was taped to a corner of the screen, so it wasn’t a shock Pidge wore such a peevish look. It was unlike any he had seen her wear before. 

_”How can you even tell?” Lance groaned, exasperated._ Keith had only laughed. 

The fourth one was with Coran. It was towards the latter of the party when he found it, Allura and Shiro bidding the group adu. Matt left not soon after, reminding Pidge to visit their family soon and thanking Coran for letting him see his rock collection. 

Keith had just been curious at first, asking if he could see it. Coran was always a tad bit weird, but Keith appreciated his candidness and consideration more than his proclivity for voodoo. It was a strange hobby but a fun one to watch. He promised he only did it with good reason, though Keith wasn’t one to be scared of dying from a pincushion doll look-alike. 

Laughter came out in weak peels as he spotted the penultimate egg. It was about a third of normal size, and looked incredibly ridiculous with a miniature Lance face painted on blue, plastic shell. _”You really went all out, huh?” Keith teased._

Now he was looking for the final egg, and it was more infuriating than the time Lance stole his script the first week they had met. He doesn’t know what to look for. It’s only once he notices Lance had been trailing him the entire duration of the game that he realizes. 

His gaze had absently passed a mirror, almost missing the crushed plastic in Lance’s back pocket. 

It had been right in front of Keith, and right behind Lance. It was in plain sight if Keith knew where to look, and he had gotten it with plain, old-fashioned luck. His grin was so obvious he had to bring a hand to cover his face, pretending to stroke it in deep thought. 

“Give up yet?” Lance asked when Keith turned to face him. 

_Oh I’m going to enjoy this._

For once he blessed himself for becoming an actor, faking a pout as he dropped his hand. He was going to put on a show. “Fine, Lance… you win.”

Lance embraced his overflowing excitement, his eyes lighting up with victory that would be short-lived. He made a sound similar to that of a child’s squeal—which Keith had heard so many times earlier that day—as he clasped his hands together. 

“Guys, _guys_!” he exclaimed, drawing the remaining guests’ attention. “Shut up and listen Keith is gonna say it!” 

Shay chuckles along with Hunk, Pidge rolling her eyes, and Coran looking equally if not more so thrilled than Lance. Keith allowed himself a moment’s pause. Mentally preparing himself, he stared Lance dead in the eye. 

The motion made him uncomfortable, as Lance tried to urge him on. “C’mon, say it, mullet!” 

It didn’t change anything with others around. Just like on screen, on camera, this was just acting. He only had to keep it together. 

“Okay,” Keith obliged, stepping in and proceeding to wrap his arms around Lance’s waist. He took pleasure in how tense Lance became under his touch. Keith wasn’t the only one freaking out here.

Inches away from noses touching, Keith spoke. “Lance, you are really good…” he started, his hands gliding down, unrestrained. He watched those blue eyes cloud his field of vision, wide and flustered. Keith swallowed, hard. His hands only stopped once they had reached the pocket, grasping the egg within a split second. 

Keith leapt back, chest raising unevenly. “At _losing_!” he yelled, smirking. He shoved the egg in the fresh space between them. 

Laughter from everyone but the duo burst through the decent-sized trailer, filling all corners. They ranged from shocked chuckling to Pidge’s full-blast cackling. Keith relished in the sound, like church bells to a devout worshipper. 

The horror still hadn’t left Lance’s face. His bubble of shock shielded him from all laughter, but not embarrassment, as his face grew red. 

“That’s _unfair_ ,” he whimpered. “Entirely and completely unfair—you can’t do that you already conceded you ass!” Lance’s voice grew in volume and outrage with each word. 

Keith returned the gesture Lance had given him when they had started the bet, shrugging. He couldn’t help the grin he wore as he waved the egg around, a taunt to Lance’s face. “You seriously shouldn’t have said ‘anything,’ even if you were stupid enough to believe you’d win.” 

When the amused chatter died done and Lance had given up, collapsing on Keith’s bed with a loud, aggravated sigh. “That’s _so_ unfair…” he mumbled, staring at the ceiling. Keith sat beside him a moment later, the bed dipping under their collective weight. 

Coran left after pouring himself one last glass of champagne, taking it with him on the way out. Keith didn’t mind—he had no idea where any of the glasses and cups came from in the first place. They weren’t plastic like the red solo cups Keith brought home either. The blue Lance stickers plastered across each alcoholic beverage was the sole thing that didn't surprise him.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked on his back. 

He looked down at him, turning over the last egg in his hands. “Yeah?” 

“You haven’t opened that one yet.” Keith turned his gaze to the egg, realizing Lance was right. He had opened the other four for fun, rolling his eyes each time the ‘Lance merchandise’ revealed itself. From small, folded umbrellas to blue stickers Keith had learned what to expect. 

Then it came to this one. 

The two connected pieces broke as he pulled them apart, revealing a shining object the size of his thumb. “A key?” he muttered in bewilderment. “Lance… what is this?” He expected a joke, maybe ‘it’s the key to my heart’ with a meaningless wink.

Lance sat up with graceful, in one smooth motion. Rather than meeting Keith’s questioning gaze, he stared at the key. “Remember the first time you came into our club?” 

Keith didn’t connect the relevance, but answered nonetheless. “Uh… yeah?”  
His heart was beginning to pound, harder than the soft music and muted jabber of their friends. Shay, Hunk, and Pidge were the only ones left, but Keith wouldn’t have cared if the whole world was watching. 

_Why a key of all things?_

“Well, first you should know we got special permission from Varkon to have that room. You know—the room we used for our first meeting… we pretend it’s for ‘high level actors’ and that we use it for a private place to practice, but we just screw around.” 

He met Keith’s confused gaze, shooting a smile that went right through his lungs and made him lose his breath. “I’m giving you a key to it,” he stated with a whisper. “You’re officially in our club.” 

Keith snorted. “I’m being welcomed into a club that’s all about hating me?” he asked. “Wow, thank you so much.” Despite his sarcasm, he was smiling like an absolute dork. 

He had never had a key before. His trailer was always open, though it could be locked from the inside for protection. There was no point to need keys for the actors’ trailers, as they weren’t expected to stay overnight, and weren’t perceived as homes in the first place. Just resting areas between takes. In the foster system he never had a place for himself either, let alone a key for it. Everything was shared. 

No matter what, just the idea of keys hadn’t been a part of his life. 

His gaze had dropped, staring at the object in awe. A hand reached out, about to rest upon his hand and his key. 

“It’s fine,” Lance muttered, discouraged without his outright approval. “You don’t want it so you don’t have to, I didn’t—“ Keith closed his palm, protecting the key just as Lance’s hand comes down onto his. 

“I’m keeping it.” Their gazes lift from their hands to their faces. “On one condition.” 

“Oh?” 

Keith brought back his smile. “You change the club’s name to ‘We Hate Zarkon Club’,” he said, giving his ultimatum. Lance faltered, taken aback. “I’m using my favor I won. This is what I want.” His grasp around the key tightened. 

He watches sapphire eyes go wide, then relax, ending with his laughter. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I would’ve done it before but if you want to waste your favor, by all means.” 

Keith didn’t argue to keep his favor; he didn’t want it anyway. He released his harsh grip on the key, rubbing his thumb along the base of the gift. This mattered more. 

The party ended a while later, his friends shuffling out of the doors with smiles and content goodbyes. Lance was the last one to leave, standing on the first step up to the doorway, with everyone now long gone. Their banter was still very much alive, evident in the teasing they tossed between one another. 

“I’m going to get you to admit it, you know,” Lance promised. 

Keith played coy and enjoyed the moment. “Hmm?” he hummed, edging closer to the border of the trailer. “Admit what?” 

“I’m a damn good kisser and you know it, Keith,” Lance barked back. 

The playful smile across Keith’s lips curled with amusement. “Oh, I’m _sure_ you are, Lance.” It’s a dare. He knows it’s a dare. Lance knows it’s a dare.

_But I need to know what this means._

Lance gladly took the bait, his desire to prove Keith wrong trumping all logic. “What?” he asked, low and daring. He took a step forward—into the trailer, forcing Keith to stumble back. “Don’t believe me?” 

Keith mustered up a weak shrug. “I see no proof.” He honestly did need to know, but every time Lance pushed forward or got close, Keith felt his constitution crumble. All inhibitions fled him, leaving him naked and vulnerable to the element called Lance. It was a struggle even when Lance wasn’t there sweeping him away, making him question himself more than before.

Keith felt himself begin to sway. This time was different from their usual jests; they were alone, with Keith clearly coaxing him on to kiss him. They weren’t practicing right now. They weren’t playing out their characters with a script in hand. Lance was acting—was reacting, really—as if it was all the same to him. As if nothing had changed and whether or not a crowd was watching didn’t matter. 

Lance was being himself, on his own terms.

 _Unless… I’ve read this all wrong…_

Lance reached out in one, slow move, giving Keith time to back away or smoothly turn him down. Instead of what either of them suspected, his hand continued to glide until it brushed against Keith’s reddened cheek. Keith immediately blames the champagne Coran had been pouring everyone all night, though he barely had a glass. 

Lance seems to hesitate, feeling the slight jerk in the tan fingers ghosting his face. The warmth that was blossoming begins to churn and wilt in his stomach, apprehension taking root instead. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Z was right. In the end this may have been the worst mistake Keith had ever made. 

Then Lance asks quietly, “Where do you sleep?” 

All apprehension is lost in the flames as Keith bursts into them. “I-I’m sorry?” he choked, barely able to breathe as his lungs constricted. 

There’s a sudden, determined glint to that familiar blue that not only shoos away his precious concerns, but replaces the warmth flooding him with blast furnace heat. He cannot use alcohol as an excuse for his flushed cheeks any longer.

“Do you sleep here?” he questioned. 

Keith couldn’t think of any other way to respond. “Y…yes?”

He watched in his own confused, blushing mess as Lance’s eyebrows draw together in concern. It took Keith a moment to recognize it—not just because his mind was making jump skips through thought, but because it wasn’t an expression Lance wore around him. 

“Why?” he continued asking questions. “Can’t you stay at Shiro’s? He’s basically your bro, isn’t he?”

Keith was reminded of his earlier call with Shiro. “I—what? No, there’s Allura…” Lance wouldn’t pause a mere beat after he responded, prodding him for more answers.

“Pidge?” Lance faltered. “She told me you stay there sometimes.”

Keith shook his head, twisted confusion replacing blush. “I… no. I don’t. Not anymore.” He had stayed one too many nights there, and though he found himself liking the company, it wasn’t right. He needed to take care of himself; he couldn’t be banking on his friends to save him. 

He wouldn’t let himself be a burden. 

Lance lowered his hand slightly, caressing Keith’s face in a way that has to be accidental. “Why do you sleep here?” he asked, wonderment lifting his words. “Dude, we’re like, insanely popular actors who get paid really, really well.” 

Keith looked away. His head turned to the side, inching away from his hand. “Why are you asking?” he mumbled. 

Lance dropped his hand completely now. From his peripheral vision, Lance frowned. “Well, I just—it always confused me. You, of all people, I imagined having some big mansion in the middle of nowhere filled with knives and Star Wars merch, or something.” 

He paused, sucking in a hushed breath. “Why would you be stuck here on set? Like I know you’re obsessed with doing your job but—“

“Thanks for the party.”

Keith looked back to Lance with a thin smile. He meant every slight, upward curve of his lips and light look he sent him. At the same time, he hopes Lance gets he wants this conversation to end. His past was in the past where it belonged, he didn’t need pity. 

Lance stepped away at that, nodding silently. Guilt was apparent in the way he tried not the hunch as he went for the door. Keith watched him, internally sighing because what he was about to do was incredibly stupid, especially after everything Z had told him. 

He knew he was being reckless, but right now all he wanted to do was make Lance forget about the change in mood, about what Keith couldn’t tell him, and to make sure Lance knew he cared. He just wanted to make the boy smile. 

So when Lance opened the door and descended the first step, turning around to wave one last goodbye, Keith takes his chance. Swooping in to catch him off guard, he hastily pulls Lance in and presses a fleeting, chaste peck to his cheek. 

“Really… thanks,” he mumbled. 

With that, Keith drew back, and Lance looked so in awe it made Keith crumple in on himself with shyness. It surprised him more than terrified him; he hadn’t felt that in years. 

“Y-yeah, sure, man,” Lance stammered. “Of course!” 

Keith let his tiny smile return as he rolled his eyes; only Lance would call someone ‘man’ after being kissed. He wanted to wonder if he got more platonic as they passed more bases, but roughly shook away the thought. 

_I shouldn’t._

“See you tomorrow?” Keith offered. “We should probably get to practicing our lines.” 

Keith absolutely adored the way Lance nodded numbly, acting like a newborn deer, nearly tumbling over the steps down the trailer. 

He almost wants to let himself miss the feeling of warm, tan hands against his skin, against his cheek, but withstands. Instead, he watched the dork stumble down to his car, a hand pressed to the place Keith had kissed him. 

He wanted to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, loves, feel free to leave a comment below.  
> i enjoy talking to you all more than i should admit :P
> 
> also, feel free to tell me what you think so far  
>  ~~i have no idea what i'm doing, so you guys always help to clue me in~~


	11. practice makes perfect—unless you’re Keith Kogane, in which case you get a hell of a lot gayer and a lot less coherent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anything else, thanks again for clicking on this and making it this far.   
> u guys are the best
> 
> p.s. shoutout to my editor @Not_Happening   
> always being beautiful and amazing and thank u for being there when i need to get my shit together ^_^

Keith didn’t bother himself with cleaning up the remaining streamers and stray cups. The moment he closed the door in front of him, he sank down to his knees, then the floor, letting out a long sigh. It was not one of exhaustion, but rather contentment. He had actually enjoyed himself. Despite the stress constantly on his tail, this had been a small bubble that allowed him a break. 

He knew it wouldn’t last; it never did. 

Even so, he would enjoy it while he could. Picking himself just to fall back down a few feet to his left, directly onto his bed. When he collapsed, he didn’t dream, but he didn’t experience any nightmares either—a very much welcomed gift. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept without his thoughts haunting him. Whether they were forgotten or not, he knew they were there, waiting in the shadows. 

The metal key sat surprisingly warm on his chest. It was the safest place Keith knew, looped around his neck by a chain Shay had gratefully given him as she left. Where she had gotten it, Keith had no idea. He assumed it had something to do with her side job, which entailed working with complicated machinery. It was something both Shay and Hunk enjoyed together, working at the same job before both getting a role in Voltron. 

Pidge went on teasing them before they started dating, always using the chance encounters against them. _”Fate is trying to bring you two together!” _she would joke. In the end, she turned out to be right. Keith’s heart clenched; he could only wish to be that lucky.__

__His own thoughts woke him from sleep, and in the bland darkness his hand reached up to tug at the necklace. He guessed his own body warmth kept the metal from being as cold as the trail air nipping at his flesh. It was not nearly as warm as a body beside him, or smooth lips pressed against his own._ _

__Keith flipped over to yell into the pillow underneath him. He had been transported back in time as his throat ached with sound, finally embracing the inner child he was never allowed to be. His fist clenched tighter against the metal, digging into his skin to make red indents the color of his cheeks._ _

__He needed to get a grip on himself before reality did._ _

__Keith knew this was acting. This was part of him ever since he could remember—a piece of him so heavily integrated into who he was he wasn’t quite sure which part was real and which part was fake anymore. Taking his job as seriously as he did growing up meant each role had to be genuine. It worked at first, but now, it was all becoming too real._ _

__With the real parts of him seeping into the way he acted, he was bound to slip up sometime. He already had, multiple times, if he was honest; taking risks like holding Lance’s hand in public or daring Lance to kiss him even when he knew it was meaningless to him._ _

__Keith and Keith alone was going to the very reason he would end up hurt. He didn’t even want to imagine what his manager was bound to say. Endless ‘I told you’s or poorly timed insults were sure to follow, and Keith wasn’t sure he was ready to handle that. There was one thing Z had been right about though._ _

__The moment Keith chose to express his real self and confirm all the rumors he had seen pop up on social media, he would lose fans. For someone on such a renowned show with all eyes on him, even a small gesture could ruin his career forever. He couldn’t fathom taking a misstep, let alone coming out. He hated how fame had boxed him in, how it was portrayed as a key that opened the way to countless opportunities._ _

__Keith was trapped._ _

__He knew the option to walk off set and never come back was there, but he couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to. It was a struggle to leave set, constantly in fear of messing up and losing what little he had. Who little he had. By staying away from public eye, he ensured his current money flow, and could give those kids what he couldn’t give himself. In the end it was just another logical reason for him to sleep in his trailer._ _

__Before he could have handled this—he _had_ handled this, with general ease. But now, with Lance by his side, he felt more tempted to fall than supported. His mind forcefully jabbed at him with persistent doubt, bringing up questions Keith used to have shut down. Without blinking, it seemed, Lance was slowly but surely cracking the floodgate and breaking Keith down. _ _

__Keith envied him._ _

__Lance had been open about sexuality since day one, and Keith couldn’t help but be in awe. He initially wanted to make a friend on set, ignoring Zarkon’s warnings, but Lance had clearly expressed his hatred for him before he could get out a single word._ _

__Keith never understood the rivalry, or what he had done to deserve the insults Lance threw at him on and off camera, but that made more sense than anything Lance did now. At least Keith had been accustomed to it. But now, it was as if Lance was playing yet another practical joke, turning the tables to disorient him—somehow not realizing he already had the upper hand on Keith._ _

___How does he not know he’s already got me?_ _ _

__Keith groaned into his pillow. He wished he could shove out his desperations and transfer them into the fluffy, inanimate object._ _

___I’m hopeless._ _ _

__—_ _

__Keith jolted awake at the sound of restless pounding against the door, his heart beating faster against his ribs in comparison. Running a hand through his hair, he quite literally launched himself out of bed, retching open the door. He expected Z, or perhaps Pidge or Shiro looking for him. Daybreak left him squinting at the backlit figure before him._ _

__“Wow, you look like shit,” Lance said, stepping past him and into the trailer. “Though it’s not a change from the usual you, just thought I’d point it out.” Keith didn’t bother arguing._ _

__He forced back a yawn. “I didn’t sleep well, thanks for asking,” he mumbled, bringing up a hand to rub his eyes. Keith could feel Lance’s eyes on him, asking a question Lance wouldn’t bring himself say. “What?” he asked, more harshly than intended._ _

__Lance immediately averted his eyes, shrugging once caught. “Nothing, mullet. Never mind,” he said. Within moments, his tone switched from mocking to chirpy. “Anyway, I already got permission from set, and since we’re not needed I’m taking you up on your offer to practice. So, I’ve graciously decided to take you and your sad excuse for hair on a date.”_ _

__Keith almost gave himself a black eye. “What?” he choked out. He had to lower his fist before he accidentally hurt himself._ _

__Lance went on without breaking a sweat. “You know how, like, some actors fake date to get to know each other so their on-screen relationship seems more real?” he explained. “I just thought it’d be fun.”_ _

___Just thought it’d be fun,_ his inner voice mocked. _ _

__“So let me get this straight—“_ _

__“I’m bi, actually,” Lance cut in._ _

__Keith threw him an unimpressed look. That had to be the worst line he’d heard from Lance yet, and he had endured countless tragedies like those before this atrocity. He wondered how long Lance had waited to use that sad line—too long, that was for sure. If anything, the statement only served to remind him of the night before, sending another envious chill down his spine._ _

___Why can’t I do that?_ He shooed away the self-pity. There were more important issues at hand. _ _

__“And _I’m_ not interested,” Keith shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. Satisfied with Lance’s exaggerated gasp, he went on. “So. You want to take me out. On a date.” _ _

__Lance hesitated. “I, well, I don’t _want_ to, but you have to admit it’s a brilliant idea. Just like all of my other ideas.” _ _

__Keith noticed the particular measures Lance was taking to put distance between them. It was like he was overcompensating for last night—to make up for a mistake he had committed. Keith swallowed dryly, almost reaching for the key around his neck to reassure himself Lance couldn’t hate him entirely. Catching himself, however, he shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets._ _

__“Just like that other brilliant idea you had to use mouthwash as spray-on, liquid deodorant?” he asked, raising an amused brow. Why Lance had thought it was a good idea in the first place was lost on him._ _

__Lance gaped at him with his hand over his heart. “And to think, I was actually going to buy you coffee,” he replied. Keith perked up at that. He definitely needed a pick me up, and if he was spending the day with Lance, he needed to be able to stay focused._ _

__“Psh,” Keith scoffed in hopes of baiting Lance. “I know you parade around like you’re the best actor there is, but there’s no need to act like a good person.”_ _

__True to form, a theatric gasp ensued, and Lance was dragging him out into the parking lot. Warm hands pulled gloved ones, eventually bringing Keith to a sleek, aquamarine sports car. It was without a doubt infinitely more expensive than the motorbike Keith had built from scraps. He couldn’t imagine renting this, let alone buying it._ _

__“You’re going to eat your words once I buy you that triple-shot espresso, mullet.”_ _

__Keith didn’t respond. His mind wouldn’t move past the practiced iteration of the drink, how facilely the words slipped from Lance’s lips like they were his own thoughts. As badly as Keith wanted to, he was unable to hide the small smile pressing to his cheeks while he sat shotgun._ _

__Lance knew his order._ _

__—_ _

__The café had a diminutive clientele this early in the day, as the sun had barely peaked over the horizon. The half walls had a lower section of worn brick, the upper jam-packed with impeccably clear windows. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the cold morning air, and Lance shivered as he passed through the entrance. After he had flirted with the barista for the amusing purpose of ticking Keith off, the duo found themselves a muted corner to await their drinks._ _

__“So, why Red?” Lance questioned, turning to Keith just in time to see him play with the key around his neck._ _

__Though he chalked it up to a newly forming habit, the little sparks of affection that burst in his chest nonetheless. The way Keith treated the flimsy chunk of metal with such a fond look in those dark eyes made Lance breathless. Despite now knowing Keith wasn’t just sharp wit tagged onto an arcane bad boy trope, the unreasonable degree of adorableness he could exude made Lance tipsy. When Keith’s eyes flew up, he was forced to meet them._ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__Lance scuffed at the floor as a way to dispel his own restlessness. “Well, I actually had a bit of a bet going on with Pidge, and I’m hoping you can break it,” he explained. “Originally I auditioned for Blue because it was my favorite color—so did Hunk—but Shiro and Pidge both auditioned because they were suggested to take those specific roles. So, which category do you fit into?”_ _

__Keith took a moment to ponder the question. In the process, his hand came up to the chain again, tugging at the key that pulled at Lance’s heartstrings. _So cute._ It had just been a way for him and the gang to express their support. He hadn’t thought Keith would appreciate it so much. _ _

__“I mean, I do like red, but it’s not my favorite color,” Keith muttered, looking unsure of himself._ _

__“Oh?” Lance asked. “Why didn’t you audition for your favorite then?” Keith had definitely been the most accomplished actor among them; he could have gotten any role he tried out for._ _

__“I mean, I _would_ have, I guess,” he replied. “If they had it.” Evasiveness coming from such a blunt personality was unlike him. The hesitation was clearly there, which made Lance all the more curious to know. _ _

__“Are you one of those people who have really specific color choices? Like chartreuse or burgundy?” Lance taunted._ _

__The nickname mullet was called over the sound of coffee beans being grounded. Keith looked over, then proceeded to give Lance a chagrined look. Moments later his own name had been called, and with warm drinks in hand, Lance offered to go outside. He knew there was a park across the street, which would be a relatively quiet, open place to practice their scenes._ _

__“Voltron doesn’t include a purple paladin,” Keith spoke suddenly. The words sounded forced, with a slight defensive ring to it._ _

__“What?” he asked._ _

__The two entered the park, covered overhead by a clump of shade from the surrounding oak trees. There was a playground a few dozen feet off, where children’s shouts of laughter could be heard but not disruptive. He was nonplussed by the sheer energy oozing from them, especially this early in the morning._ _

__“You asked me why I didn’t audition for a paladin of my favorite color,” Keith muttered, bringing his drink to his lips. As he sipped, Lance threw him an incredulous look._ _

__“Wait…” Lance said, in total disbelief. Keith had to be mocking him, but he couldn’t see the way the joke was going in order to prepare a counterattack. “Your favorite color is seriously purple?”_ _

__Keith came to a halt, letting out a sigh as he leaned against the bark of the nearest tree. “Yes, Lance, okay?” he shot back. “Shiro always said it was more of a—a periwinkle? On the bluer side, I guess. It’s just… a calming color.”_ _

__Respect was a term Lance should have used. He should have kept his mirth to himself, but as light trails of laughter grew into short-breathed gasps Lance couldn’t stop. A vague imprint of a hand smacking his arm was all that distracted him from the irony. The two were supposed to hate each other, yet here Keith was, defying all laws and logic, favoring the unity of two opposites. One, of which, he couldn’t fail to notice, was _his_ color. _ _

__“First of all,” Lance wheezed. He let himself fall into a comfortable sitting position on the grass beside Keith, who was fuming with discomposure. “You just made me lose what _was_ a tied bet, thank you very not. And second, I… it’s— _purple._ ” _ _

__“Yeah!” Keith shouted, clearly not as entertained as Lance was by the fact. “So?”_ _

__Lance shook his head, smiling as he leaned his emptied cup against the tree. “You’re such a dork,” he stated. Earning an insulted snort from Keith, Lance went on before he responded._ _

__Pulling out his rolled-up script from his jacket’s inner pocket, he scooted over to Keith so they both shared the tree as a backrest. Their shoulders touched when Lance unfurled the script, and once completely unwound the paper, he looked over at a wide-eyed Keith. At first glance, he hadn’t understood, then he looked back down at the script._ _

__“ _Oh!_ ” he exclaimed, sending an apologetic look to Keith. “I forgot to tell you to grab your script, but uh, we could share?” _ _

__Keith’s surprised features reverted to their unperturbed state. “Maybe if you didn’t kidnap me from set I would’ve gotten the chance to,” he snarked. “But there’s no need anyway. I already memorized the script.”_ _

__Lance gaped. “Bit of an overachiever much?” he asked back. “Seriously, what do you do for fun? Like, off set?”_ _

__All he ever knew of Keith was the actor side of him. Anytime Lance had engaged in conversation with him, the boy was either the epitome of apathy or more uncomfortable than Lance’s homophobic cousin during family reunions. He had genuinely thought he had done something to tick the boy off. Lance never imagined he was just inept when it came to dealing with others._ _

__His inexperience in the moments he fumbled were often endearing. Whenever Lance could manage to throw off Keith’s cool exterior, he would. It was a major win, as the precious, bumbling ball of emotions that tumbled out was unlike any other part of Keith he had seen._ _

__The honest outbursts made Lance feel important—valued, even. Keith had trusted him, albeit mostly on accident, with a huge secret. Lance didn’t understand _why_ Keith was so adamant on keeping his sexuality a secret, but asking felt inappropriate. This was all just an accident, after all. Lance was just meant to help him, he couldn’t let himself get caught up in the idea of Keith again. _ _

__“I’ll sometimes work on my bike,” Keith explained, setting his drink aside beside Lance’s. “Or go to the gym to work out.” There was a sudden drop to the last statement—a missing piece to the overall picture. A secret hobby._ _

___Maybe he watches anime, or goes thrift shopping with Coran for antique swords_ he supposed. _He would totally do that.__ _

__“Those are not hobbies,” Lance asserted. “Come on, there’s got to be something you enjoy besides acting.” He hoped he could pry out the hidden interest, but to no avail. Keith shrugged, leaving Lance to groan as he flipped through the script to his first one-on-one scene with Keith._ _

__Instantly invested as his eyes scanned the page, Lance spoke up. “I’m going to test you, then.”_ _

__Before Keith could speak up, Lance embraced his character, quickly analyzing the scene in which he was meant to be flirting with a passing alien. Since Blue was alone on a mission with Red, it was no surprise he was getting on Red’s nerves. Throwing on a cocky grin, Lance turned to look at Keith._ _

__“What?” Lance hummed, low and amused. “Jealous?” Keith blinked, and Lance was almost tempted to take victory right then and there._ _

__In the seconds following, Keith’s gaze hardened, and he crossed his arms tight over his chest. Giving an annoyed huff, he easily recited his own line. “You’re not paying attention to the mission,” he replied coolly._ _

__“Oh?” asked Lance, scooting closer. “You want more attention?”_ _

__“…yes?” Keith narrowed his eyes, retaining his composure despite his character’s obliviousness._ _

__Lance leaned in. “Okay,” he whispered, licking his lips. “I’ll give you more attention.” A dangerous thought took hold as he finished speaking, and on impulse, he wanted to see if he could break Keith out of character. Letting his gaze dip, blue eyes landed on downturned lips and lingered there with loaded purpose._ _

__He watched Keith freeze. A brisk, gentle morning wind blew past, ruffing the leaves of the tree above and lifting up each dark strand of his hair, tousling it every which way. Lance felt him shiver, as their outer arms and legs were pressed up against one another. Deep periwinkle peered into him, remnants of outward shock morphing into traces of beguilement._ _

__An abrupt, startling noise erupted from Keith, smoothing over into light, airy laughter. His once wide eyes crinkled shut in mirth, a sight that sent Lance’s heart into an arrhythmic sputter. Lance hadn’t intended to make the boy laugh, but the last thing he was doing was complaining. If anything, he was gratified he could actually manage such a feat. Lance only had one question._ _

___Is he laughing at me?_ _ _

__His own insecurities began to take hold, wiping away any mock confidence he had worn. Without meaning to, his faltering grin had clued Keith in, who had stopped laughing. Keith wore a warm smile that eased Lance’s nerves for the words to come._ _

__“Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong, you—you were fine,” Keith explained, beaming. “It’s just this… this wouldn’t happen.”_ _

__Lance’s eyes narrowed as his mind analyzed Keith’s words, heartbeat evening out to sink. The assertion in his tone let Lance down slow, coming to the understanding he had been trying to avoid. This was just a formality for work. Keith was just being a good sport about it._ _

__Lance drew in a wavering breath, forcing a smile. “Almost as impossible as this plot?” he offered. Keith scoffed._ _

__“It’s not even subtle fan service,” said Keith. “A planet where flirting is a form of _proposal_?” Lance couldn’t help but agree with that. Admittedly, the writers were on a time crunch, and had to rework the entire plot to fit in a few solo scenes with Red and Blue, but it could have been worse. _ _

__These next few scenes involved Lance flirting with a multitude of citizens, making an unintentional reputation for himself as a bit of a philanderer. _”Well, they’re not far off,” he had teased Lance._ Keith, unsurprisingly, recited all his lines effortlessly. Blue was in the middle of an argument between two fangirls proclaiming their engagement to him, unable to dispel his mistake, when Red came in to help. _ _

__As Red completed a short summary of Earth customs, Blue was simply directed to wrap his arm around Red’s waist and tug him close. Despite having memorizing the script, Keith tensed in surprise when Lance rehearsed the action. There was no indication that Red was supposed to do so, and it really seemed like Keith had been surprised he had done it._ _

__“Also, we’re, uh, together. So, yeah. Can’t do that thing… with you, any of you,” Lance said, reading off the script from his free hand. He had tried to stay in character, but Keith hadn’t bothered. Waves of laughter ran through Keith’s body, and Lance could feel it from where he held him._ _

__“I take it back,” Keith wheezed beside him. “The only thing not believable about this is that I save your ass, and you proceed to make up the excuse that ‘we’re together’.”_ _

__With a pause to breathe, he pulled away, and Lance let his hand fall to his side, joining in to snicker as Keith went on. “We both know I would be laughing in the corner with Green.”_ _

__From this point on, Lance had started adjusting the script, adding improvised lines. The writing board had informed him he should add his own lines throughout the episodes, so it seemed more natural. With Keith’s help, he tried out the _worst_ lines he could think of. _ _

__“Can you hold my hand?” Lance asked. “I want to tell Green I’ve been touched by an angel.”_ _

__Keith snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you actually _use_ those lines on girls,” he said. “I swear the only reason they give you the time of day is because you’re a famous celebrity.”_ _

__The back and forth continued on for a while, and Lance would watch for each short exhale or eye roll he could pull from the boy. It went on long enough for his cheeks to grow sore with amusement. He was scraping the bottom of the bottom when Keith turned away from the playground way off to look at him._ _

__Lance had been aware Keith didn’t open up much around others—especially _him_ —but he never thought seeing it himself would blow him away as much as it did. The wind wasn’t knocked out of him. Instead, it was more like a tornado had torn its way through his chest, striking his knees out from under him. He had never been more grateful to be sitting down. _ _

__Keith’s wonted, dark eyes were sprinkled with violet sparks, lighting up his entire gaze as he gave Lance a lopsided smile. “For someone who never stops flirting, you really suck at this,” Keith goaded. Strands of hair tilted and fell over his face and he tilted it to the side._ _

__Rather than quipping back, Lance grinned. “Thanks, pretty boy.” The diminutive left him without a second thought, or even a first thought, really. Even so, the impending panic vanished as he witnessed Keith’s cheeks dust over with pink._ _

___Oh my god, I could_ use _this_. _ _

__Lance decided to switch to another scene entirely, further pushing Keith to test both him and his character. Knowing a later section of the script from memory—he swears it didn’t stick because he enjoyed it—when Blue continued to flirt with Red, even after they leave the planet. Red had been thrown into a swirling black hole of confusion by the ceaseless courting, and Lance wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste._ _

__“You _did_ ask for more attention, so…” Lance snarked, successfully connecting this line back to a previous one. _ _

__It took a bit longer than a moment for Keith to find his voice, but once he did, he was shouting with it. “ _That isn’t what I meant, jerk!_ ” Lance had to give this guy serious props; he didn’t break character even now. _ _

__Lance decided he was going to change that one day._ _

__“Are you sure about that?” he asked, wiggling his brows in an attempt to make Keith laugh. Though Keith’s straight face wobbled, he didn’t smile. With every failed attempt to make him crack a grin, the urge to succeed only grew._ _

__—_ _

__It was around midday when they decided to finish off practice with their final scene. The moment had been led up to with sparse moments of joint laughter, with one of them going on about how they would never say a certain line, or how scarily on the nose another was. Overall, Keith had been genuinely enjoying himself._ _

__Until now._ _

__Lance had been the one to bring up the confession scene, explaining that they might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. As the setting was in the middle of battle where Blue shielded Red, Keith decided to use the tree as a substitute for a wall prop, pressing himself back up against it as he sat. It was the following part that made Keith want to crawl out of his skin._ _

__Lance had practically draped himself over his lower half, tanned legs on either side of his own. Lance wasn’t necessarily straddling him, as his body didn’t touch Keith’s, but hovered over him. Lance’s knees started in a position where they pushed into the ground, but had gradually inched closer to where they were pressing up uncomfortably against Keith’s outer thighs. Keith kept his thinking to a minimum, and refused to speak unless absolutely necessary._ _

___Why did I ever agree to this again?_ _ _

__Meanwhile, Lance seemed to have no problem with their stances. His blue eyes calmly perused the script between him and Keith’s rapidly beating chest, every so often nodding to himself as a personal reassurance. Keith had been so caught up in trying to avert his gaze, he hadn’t noticed when Lance put aside the script._ _

__“You’re… not _that_ bad, mullet,” Lance said, and Keith had to physically refrain his muscles from going rigid. Once Keith met his gaze, Lance went on. “I don’t totally hate you.” _ _

__Keith almost went with it too, but couldn’t ignore the annoying feeling of knees pushing against him. Letting out a nettled groan, he acted before he could think any better of it. Bringing his hands up to clasp around the backs of Lance’s thighs, he pulled the boy down completely, bringing Lance closer in the process. Lance made a startled noise above him, and Keith looked up._ _

__“You have knobby knees,” he explained simply, maintaining a plain look. “They hurt.” Lance shut his mouth, taking a moment to absorb the information before nodding._ _

__Keith’s hands remained on Lance, as he had no idea where else to put them. It seemed to awkward to switch now, and Lance didn’t seem to mind. Putting together the best smug grin he could muster, Keith continued the scene. “So if you don’t hate me, does that mean you like me?” he mocked._ _

__Lance sighed, and because of their close proximity, Keith’s nose was tickled by warm breath. “Fine,” he confessed. “Yes… I may _kind of_ like you.” _ _

__Keith decided he would switch it up at the last second, both out of tension for what was to come and because of how uncomfortable Lance seemed. He wondered if Lance would adjust his lines too._ _

__“What about the bonding moment?”_ _

__“That’s where I draw the line, mullet,” Lance shot back without a moment of hesitation._ _

__Keith let himself grin. He then shrugged, finally unwinding as he got more into character. “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, entertained. “And this is a good enough bonding moment for me.”_ _

__“Actually,” Lance ad-libbed, inclining forward. His breath ghosted Keith’s lips. “I know how we can make this even better.” They both knew what came next._ _

__Or at least, they thought they did, as they were interrupted by an ear-splitting gasp. Within an instant, panic ensued, forcing Keith’s gut to wrench in an unnatural direction, and making him flinch. Both actors froze, eyes locked onto each other’s before they slowly turned in sync._ _

__A wide-eyed teenage girl stood there, about a foot or so off, gaping at the duo. Lance instantly scrambled off him, offering his hand to pull Keith up. Embarrassed, Keith declined, pushing himself up and carefully avoiding any eye contact with his coworker. His eyes instead landed on the small Voltron chain attached to the phone in her hand._ _

__Which was aimed right at them._ _

___Wonderful,_ he wanted to scream. _Just what we needed.__ _

__“Oh, _wow,_ ” she hummed, drawing out the single syllable in awe. Lance quickly cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from Keith and to himself. _ _

__“Uh, hello,” he started off. Keith did look over to him now; it was a rare occurrence to see Lance act without any grace in conversation. “Please don’t tell me you took any pictures…” Desperation seeped into his tone, and Keith couldn’t blame him._ _

__The girl shook her head with vehement enthusiasm. “No, I—!” she said, flipping her phone around to reveal a group chat. “I was talking to my friends when I looked up and saw…” No one completed her thought. Everyone seemed sheepish about the whole ordeal, even the girl._ _

__“You’re really brave!” she yelled, voice three volumes higher than before. Keith met her gaze—she was looking directly at him. “I mean,” the girl gave Lance a hesitant look. “I knew Lance was bi but I think it’s so cool you were so relaxed! I envy that so much…”_ _

__Keith’s whole body was frozen, entirely focused on the genuine sincerity that sparked behind her chestnut eyes. This girl meant what she was saying. There was no underlying mockery or snide comments spoken under her breath. Lance had been right._ _

__Not everyone would hate him._ _

__“It’s so impressive,” she told him with an earnest step forward. “I hope I can come out like you one day, you know, so casually and—“ The girl’s mouth clamped shut, as if coming to a tongue-numbing realization. Suddenly turned abashed, she tried to reclaim her words. “Uh, if… y’know, you’re actually dating that is…”_ _

__Keith’s mouth opened to shoot an automatic response, to say ‘no, of course not,’ but the words clawed against his throat, refusing to reach his mouth. He didn’t want to say it, because whether or not he’d admit it, he wanted to pretend. He wanted this to last, even if it was just for one week on set, for one scene, one moment._ _

__Lance was the first person to not just accept him like Shiro or Pidge had, but dared to take it a step further. He had taken it upon himself to help Keith—to let him know he was supported. Keith didn’t want that to end. He didn’t want to be left alone again. If left to his own devices, he would fall and tumble back into the never-ending hole he had dug for himself in the first place._ _

__He didn’t want to go back there._ _

__A hand took his, grazing over his knuckles before slender fingers took his. His heart seized as Lance spoke up, but he didn’t address their intwined hands. “Actually, we’re not at liberty to say,” he explained with a kind upturn of a smile. “But rest assured you’ll know soon enough.”_ _

__With a deliberate pause, Lance went on. “If you wouldn’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” The girl didn’t hesitate._ _

__“Sean,” she answered, delighted._ _

__“Well, Sean,” he repeated, gently squeezing Keith’s hand. Lance had even begun soothingly running his thumb across pale skin. “Would you mind not talking about this until we reveal why we were doing this?”_ _

__Sean bobbed her head in assent. “Of course,” she exclaimed. “Whether klance becomes canon or purple does, I’m sure we’ll all be happy either way!” Keith lowered his head to hide his growing smile._ _

__Lance chuckled. “Thanks, Sean.”_ _

__—_ _

__After offering to take a few pictures with such an understanding fan, Lance and Keith had waved to Sean as she ran off, a gleeful smile spread across her lips. He loved talking to admirers of the show. Sometimes it was a real hassle, especially when it came to the shipping wars, but it was moments like these that made his job more than worth it._ _

__Now the two were lying down under the tree once more, side by side. Lance’s pinky touched Keith’s, but neither of them said anything. Keith hadn’t said anything about Lance reaching out to hold his hand minutes before, either. He enjoyed moments like these too._ _

__Lance decided to take a risk._ _

__“Hey Keith?” he questioned, turning his head to Keith. “Can I ask?”_ _

__Keith returned the action, their eyes meeting. “About what?” If Lance didn’t say it now, he would lose his resolve._ _

__“About why you stay in the trailer?”_ _

__When Keith went silent, he didn’t simply stop responding. No, when Keith goes silent, you can see the muted gloss pitched over periwinkle eyes, and how he shuts down entirely. The muscles of Lance’s body went taut, knowing he had crossed the line. Keith broke the gaze, looking away._ _

___I just want to_ help _you, Keith,_ he wanted to say. Confusion spurred in his gut, mixing with the frustration of not understanding. _ _

__“You don’t have to tell me,” Lance babbled, retracing his figurative steps. He was whispering now. “It’s just… I—we—all of us… we worry about you. We know Z gives you a lot of shit and it just pisses us off, mostly me, that you never do anything about it.”_ _

__Keith’s narrowed gaze met blue again, managing to be both stunned and searching at the same time. Taking it as a better state than before, Lance continued._ _

__“So, I dunno, I’m just guessing but… is _he_ why?” he asked. Keith remained silent, and it sent his brain off, going haywire at the lack of response. Lance heard himself stuttering like a fool when he spoke up. _ _

__“I mean, it-it probably doesn’t make sense, but, uh, I just… I don’t understand?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, which was accurate, as Lance had no idea what he was doing. At all. “So I’m just trying to fill in the blanks here and if I’m overstepping my bounds you can tell m—“_ _

__“Can I take you somewhere?” Keith interrupted._ _

__Keith gave away nothing with his guarded look, leaving Lance unable to react but give a slow yet firm nod. He trusted Keith, and if this was his way of reaching out to him, so be it. Lance would gladly take his hand._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always,   
> i love talking to u guys, so feel free to comment below   
> otherwise, i hope u got some enjoyment out of this chapter   
> thanks again!  
> <3


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